Van Helsing: Shadow of the Vampire
by NeoShinigamiSama
Summary: An alternate take on the Van Helsing universe, Book 1 of Three. Sent to the mysterious city of Tirgoviste in Walachia, Van Helsing, a man without a past, is charged with a mission to destroy Dracula, Lord of the Vampires. Reviews are Welcomed
1. Prologue

_**Walachia   
Year 1462**_

The fields of battle were covered with bodies, those of the dead and the still dying. Blood stained the earth, while, high in the air, mounted upon long pikes, the bodies of not only the dead, but the living as well were hung up, impaled to suffer a slow and painful end. 

But one man still walked in the grounds of death. His long blackish-brown hair was spread out, lying upon his shoulders, and in his hands was held a long pike, merely waiting for the next victim of his cruel methods. He looked about, seeking his next foe, for surely, after all that he had done, nothing could now stop him. 

"Tepes, you have been judged!" 

The voice was familiar to him, and he turned. The man before him was one he knew well. Bright lit blue eyes gazed at the man known as the Impaler, and while this man's brown hair was long, reaching to his shoulders, it was much lighter in tone. In his hand right hand was a sword, the blade almost seeming to glow as he approached his enemy. 

"By the word of God," he said, halting for but a moment. "You have been judged...and you are guilty!" 

The other man laughed, holding his pike now as a staff while looking to this man he'd thought he knew. "So," he remarked, eyes sparking with interest. "It is true then. You are who they said you were." He paused a moment. "I suppose that my sentence is repentance?" 

Despite the laugh of his target, the younger looking man gave no sign of amusement. In fact, the expression upon his face was one of total seriousness. He took another step toward the man who was named Vlad the Impaler. "There is no redeeming your acts," he replied with a tone devoid of emotion. "In the name of God, his Son, and all that is in Heaven, you have been sentenced to Damnation, Vlad Tepes _Dracula_!" 

Tepes saw that he had no way out of this battle. He recognized who and what he faced. Now, despite his earlier thoughts of undisputed victory, Vlad Tepes was afraid. The man before him felt like the wrath of God, and if the stories and what he even now witnessed were true, such a comparison was not at all far off. 

His sword was drawn forth. The pike was thrown to the ground, and Vlad Tepes began what he knew would most likely be his last battle. The steel of his blade was the best in all of Eastern Europe, but it did not avail him when the glowing sword of his enemy cut through like a hot knife through butter. There was a flash of pain mere moments later, and as Vlad stepped away, screaming, he found that his right ring finger was gone, as was the ring he wore. 

The shining blade rose again when the man rose from picking up Vlad's lost finger. "Proof of your sentence," he said. With a quick movement, he removed the ring, now holding it tightly in his right hand while his left continued to hold the red bladed sword. He took a step toward Tepes. "And now, I carry out my Judgment." 

He snarled at the man he once thought of as a friend, a brother in arms. "I swear this," he said angrily. "With not God, but the Devil as my witness, I will rise from beyond death and haunt you forever, Gabriel!" He pointed at the man with his still uninjured left hand. "May you never return to the Gates of Heaven so long as I walk upon the Earth!" 

The man halted for a moment. "May you burn for your heresy," he stated just before swinging his sword and cleaving through the neck of Vlad Tepes. A swarm of black feathers billowed out while lightning flashed in the sky, thunder clapping almost instantaneously. 

However, even as the body of Vlad Tepes hit the ground in death, there was the stench of corruption, and the man who had passed the Judgment of Heaven felt the presence of total evil. He turned, looking for any sign of what caused that feeling, but he need not see it to know what had arrived; Vlad's oath had summoned this presence. His duty here was done, but he almost refused to depart, wanting to finish one other task. 

But he could not. A deep and powerful voice echoed from within him, ordering him to leave the battlefield. The man hesitated, looking to where Vlad's body lay. There was a shimmer now standing before the body, one that had the foul stench of Hellfire on it. Turning and vanishing, the man departed, leaving no trace of his presence save the black feathers that landed in the spot where he had stood. 


	2. Chapter 1

For what seemed to be the fifteenth time in the last two hours, Victor straightened his tie. He had been nervous all week about this presentation. Granted, it was natural; his proposal was new and radical, something never before theorized in the scope that he was going to suggest. He had all faith, however, in his work.

But still, he was afraid. Ever since he had shifted from practical surgery to the field of research, Victor had been plagued by an uncertain future. His fortunes dependent on support, his ability to win grants and fellowships, and most importantly, forever plagued by the chance of failure. And sadly, his own youth had been a major factor in much of his shortcomings in that ability to gain support.

In a world where the elder scientists were more respected than their more youthful compatriots, Victor von Frankenstein was sadly overlooked in his field. Medical science seemed not to seek true advances, only the further refinement of existing methods. And the ideas of the young were commonly brushed away by long held traditional beliefs. It was a wonder at times that he'd even been given this appointment for presentation.

He stepped towards the auditorium. In his years as a student here at Goldstadf University, he had been in that very chamber a thousand times during his years of medical study. He had even assisted Professor Waldman many times in teaching the first- and second-year courses.

And now, he stood there at the podium, about to have a nervous breakdown. Seated in this room today were not the fresh faces of eager students, but the faces of many well known physicians and professors of medical science. Colleagues who even now looked down on the youngest man to apply for the Goldstadf Fellowship, the most prestigious fellowship in Romania, and one of the most esteemed in all of Eastern Europe. With it came a rather large grant and access to the university's considerable resources.

He was greeted warmly by his old teacher and mentor, Professor Henry Waldman. The professor had a thick mop of graying brown hair, and bushy eyebrows of the same coloration. But his posture was most unrevealing of his age as he stood rigid and straight like a first-year military cadet rather than a man who was due to retire in just a few short years.

"Gentlemen," Waldman said to the audience as he turned to face his colleges. "It is my pleasure to now introduce to you Victor von Frankenstein. He is a graduate of this very school, and left us at the top of his class two years ago." He paused and noticed the looks of pride in the audience. "He has been a student of mine since his first year, and has distinguished himself both as a surgical resident and as my research assistant. He also has been published in both the _Munich Review of Medicine_ and the _Paris Journal of Surgical Science._

"Today, however, he comes before you with a presentation of his own work, and although he has kept the subject of such a secret, I have no doubts that it will be of great interest to us all."

Waldman turned to Victor and smiled while gesturing him to take the stand. "They're all yours, Victor."

With a heavy sigh, Victor nodded and stepped up to the podium. "Distinguished guests, I welcome, and give my thanks for coming," he began. He made an effort to show as much respect for these men as possible, for his actions here would determine his future with the university. "I am pleased to see so many well known and respected faces from all the fields of medical science." Victor allowed himself a faint smile. "With all due modesty, I believe that what I am about to propose will be of interest to each and every one of you, and will have a dramatic impact on all our various domains of study."

He took a deep breath. "Nearly twenty-five hundred years ago, medicine took on a radical change when Hippocrates established once and for all that there were no supernatural causes for disease, only natural ones. A few hundred years later, Galen established the first medical theories based on the principles of scientific experimentation. In the centuries since then, we have used experiments to discover those causes, and as a result, we continue to learn of anatomy and of the body as a machine." Again, Victor paused. It was just about time now to present his work, but still, he needed to soften up the audience, bring them into what he was trying to do. "And at the threshold of the twentieth century, we stand on the brink of new and exciting discoveries."

There was some movement in the audience, and, fortunately, Victor could see quite a few nods of agreement. Good, he was doing well so far, may as well continue. "However," he interjected then. "Many significant mysteries still remain. Cases that defy our explanation. We have seen identical patients with identical illnesses, some who survive, and some who do not." He paused again, noticing that his hands were starting to shake. _Calm down,_ he thought to himself. It was then that Victor smiled and returned his attention to his presentation. "For example, why does pneumonia sometimes take the life of a healthy young man, while at other times allow an elderly man to recover? What forces are those that promote healing, those that hasten death? Why do some patients mend more quickly than others, while some never at all?"

"God," came the remark, though in a joking tone, which produced a low laughter from the audience. Victor allowed himself to chuckle at the comment, since he knew it was in good humor, and not meant to offend. Plus, he was ready for it.

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, as any faithful man, I must agree that perhaps God has a plan for each of us that determines how long we live, and when we die." He once more paused, because now, it was about to get tricky. "Yet has God not also allowed medical science to intervene and save lives? If this is so, then perhaps the healers are truly doing God's work."

The laughter stopped. And while Victor had been ready for such a reaction, he had to admit even to himself, it was un-nerving. They were all preparing for what came next. "I submit to you all that there is in fact an underlying force to all of our work...invisible, almost undetectable...a force of life."

The audience was very attentive now, some almost straining forward. And this, Victor knew, was the reaction he both expected, and dreaded. At this point, he could go either way. He was afraid. But he had to continue, or all his efforts would be for naught.

"We have, for some time, known about the role of electricity in the function of the human body. Chemical galvanism and electro-biology were born more than a hundred years ago, when Luigi Galvani caused the leg of a recently deceased frog to twitch through the application of electricity."

Several men nodded, knowing well what Victor spoke of. "My subsequent research," he continued, "suggests the existence of a force underlying even electrical impulses; a life force, if you will. What I submit to you is that this life force can be manipulated and focused through the careful application of electrical and magnetic forces. Through this, it can actually be harnessed to promote healing and health."

Immediately, the room broke out into dozens of separate conversations. Victor paled slightly from what he could discern from some of those conversations; shock and indignation. Things had just gone very bad for his future, for his work.

"Gentlemen, please!" cried the voice of Professor Waldman. Victor turned to see that his mentor was trying to restore order, and was failing. He should have known that his theories, his ideas, would be criticized. These men were too set in the old ways, not willing to see into the future.

"I know what I'm proposing is revolutionary," Victor said once things had calmed down. "However, is it any more revolutionary than Pasteur's work? He showed us a world of invisible micro-organisms. Is it impossible then to believe that there is even more that we do not see, that we do not yet understand?"

There was a snort. "What do you suggest?" boomed a voice from the audience. "That there is some magic ray that can heal a wound, mend a broken bone, or clear the body of any disease and illness?"

"No more magical than sulfur powder," Victor replied while attempting to keep his own calm.

"And what if you applied enough of this 'life force' to Galvani's frog?" another voice called. Victor now paled, even as the question was continued. "Would it get up and hop away?"

He gulped. It was something that had tickled in the back of his mind, but he'd never really thought on it fully. But now, he had to answer that very possibility. "In theory," he said, voice wavering from fear. "In theory, yes, but-"

There was a great roar of voices now. Half were calls of scorn, the other half was peals of laughter, but they all meant the same thing; he had failed. It was saddening, really, that such a new age revolution in medicine was being put down in favor of tradition, but in some ways, he did not blame them. They only saw what worked, not what might be possible.

"Utter blasphemy!"

His eyes snapped open, now filled not with fear and resignation, but wounded pride and anger. "No, not blasphemy!" he called back, almost instantaneous in reaction. "_Science!_"

The room went quiet, and Victor now found a new courage swelling up inside of him. "Did they not call it blasphemy when Galileo proposed the idea that the Earth was _not_ the center of the universe, that the Earth in fact orbited the sun!" he called out, hoping that perhaps he still had a chance. "Did they not once call medicine itself a blasphemy, saying that it was witchcraft and black magic to be human and have the power to heal, to save lives!"

"But man does not have the power to _give_ life!" came the angry shout. "What you are proposing is that we, as mortal man, have the power to do what only God can!"

"We already can create life," Victor replied. He breathed deeply, calming himself. It would do no good to lose his temper now, not when he was so close. "For countless ages, mankind has proven that he can create life, give life. A human child is all the proof we need of that. But this is not about, as you seem to say, overthrowing the power of God, far from it. This is about medicine, about overcoming death, to allow life to continue as long as possible." He sighed, looking down for a moment at the hardbound folder that rested on the podium. "Gentlemen, I know that what I propose is extraordinary, but I ask that you read the contents of the folders before you. They contain all my experimental records and the findings of my research."

Looking out over the crowd, Victor saw nothing but blank faces, and sighed in defeat. The response to his fellowship application would not come for weeks, but he didn't need that to let him know what was already said here, in the faces of his betters. He already knew the answer.

He had failed. Failed his dream, failed himself, and more importantly, he had failed the world. But still, he raised his head to meet the eyes of the audience. "I thank you for your time, gentlemen," he said, and gathered up his notes and belongings from the podium.

His face was flushed, and as he walked off, Victor could hear the voices from his colleagues. They were disapproving, almost accusational. For such a distinguished group, it was the equivalent of catcalls and the hurling of fruit and vegetables. It was an embarrassment to him, that these men were his betters, and yet they didn't even have the decency to at least consider his work. They had already decided his fate, he knew it.

"Victor, are you alright?"

He stopped and turned to see Professor Waldman walking towards him. The man's bright lit eyes were filled with concern, and Victor only gave a sigh. "I'll be fine," he replied, though there was sadness in his voice. "My career is no doubt over, though." _All because those pompous fools won't see that I could be right,_ he wanted to say, but didn't. He had more respect for himself than that, and he did not wish to lower himself to that level. No, better to push such words away in favor of maintaining dignity. "I'm sorry."

Waldman shook his head. "You always will have a place with me," he said warmly, placing his hand on Victor's shoulder. "I don't care what those men say, you are a genius. There's much we can do together."

There was a nod of acknowledgement. Victor knew that it was true. Waldman's work was good science. And the professor was making indeed slow, yet still grand progress; new procedures, new techniques. Yet, Victor knew that it would most likely be a waste of his time, compared to what he _could_ be doing, to what he _should_ be accomplishing. In a decade, he knew, his research on the life force would advance medicine in more ways that they had in the last two thousand years. In just a few years, he could dwarf everything that Waldman had done in his entire career.

It was prideful to think it, perhaps even outright arrogant, but it was true.

"I thank you," Victor said while shifting his grip on his belongings. "But I must decline."

For a moment, Waldman studied his young friend. He could see the distress and the feeling of failure in Victor's young eyes. "Do not let this defeat you," he said finally, clapping Victor on the back. "It is but a setback. Do not let it consume you, and please do consider my offer."

He paused, then nodded and smiled. It was then that Victor von Frankenstein departed.

* * *

It was a full two weeks before Victor had returned to his family home in Romania. He had needed to get away from his troubles, from the utter humiliation he had faced at Goldstadf. But really, despite having taken such a long holiday, Victor never really had gone on the trip. He knew it well that his mind was still plagued by his work. And because of that, when he finally returned home, it was all he could think about.

There was only one solution. His work had to continue. He had the family holdings, some income, and he could set up a laboratory in his house. It wouldn't have the staff nor the resources of the university, but it was a start. And then, when he had proven his work, perhaps then he would be recognized as the brilliant young mind that he was. But it would be years before it would bring results. Science depended on experiments, data, reproducible results, and revolutionary science was no different. There would be years of work, of working with animals, and he would have to make do with what equipment he could afford.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt hope. It might not be the Goldstadf Fellowship, but once he could prove his work, show those men that he was right, it would be. And so, it was enough for now.

Victor at last stepped into his house, where his few servants stood waiting to greet him. It did feel good to be home. It was evening before he had unpacked and returned to his place as master of the household, but all that mattered was that he was home.

A large pile of correspondence demanded his attention, but Victor decided to let it wait until morning. He had much to do this night. Sitting at his desk, Victor began jotting down notes, a list of things he would need to begin his work. If he was going to situate this lab in his own home, there was much to be done.

Less than an hour into his work, Victor was interrupted as his butler, Gerald, came to inform him that someone was waiting at the door. "A Count Tepes," Gerald stated. "I asked him to return in the morning, but he was quite insistent on seeing you now." He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, sir. The hour is quite indecent."

It was unusual. "Tepes?" Victor repeated while rising from his desk. He had heard of the Tepes family, and certainly, he'd once met a man who had introduced himself as 'Lord Tepes', but that had been out in London. More so, that meeting had been in broad daylight. So if this was the same man, why not wait until morning? "Any other name he gave?"

Gerald nodded. "Yes, he says his name is Dracula Tepes."

Victor froze for a moment. _That_ name was familiar. But surely, it could not be _that_ Count Dracula. Certainly, the Tepes family hade many descendents, perhaps this man was one of them and had been named in honor of his ancestor.

The foyer was empty. Victor flashed Gerald a confused look.

"He would not leave, yet he would not enter."

Now his curiosity was getting the better of him. A man with a well known family name, insisting on meeting at night, and he would not enter. Victor was finding old stories from his childhood crawling out from the back of his mind, almost like a warning beacon. He quickly pushed it aside, sure that it was nothing. With a sharp breath, Victor walked to the front door to greet his guest and came face to face with a tall man who stood just outside the entryway.

He was dressed all in black, a long cloak draping his body. The attire was very formal looking, with an almost militaristic appearance to it, and in a style Victor had seen before only once. Most unusual was his hair, which was long, dark, and pulled back to be out of his face, save for a few long stands that hung to the side of his head. And his eyes were, strangely, red, like blood almost. But perhaps the oddest thing was the count's ring finger on his right hand; it was missing, gone with only an eighth of an inch left of what had been the finger remaining.

The count's features were sharp and striking, with pronounced cheekbones and what could be called an aquiline nose. More over, if Victor had to guess, the man could be perhaps thirty, no older than Victor himself. He certainly looked to be in the prime of his youth. But there was something about his eyes; they looked older than his face, much older. Victor found that those eyes were grabbing his attention. Electric, intense, and...cold. It was like they were devoid of any positive emotion what-so-ever. But then, Victor realized he was staring; it was rude of him to do so.

"Count Tepes, I assume?" he asked, offering his hand.

The count nodded curtly. "I am, Dracula," he said, a bit of hesitation before he said "Dracula". He smiled now, and Victor could see that the man had slightly larger than normal canines. Not far too unusual, he'd known enough people who had the same oddity. But still, the warnings went off in the back of his mind. "I must say, Doctor Frankenstein, it is truly an honor to meet you."

"Might I ask why you waited outside?"

With a shrug, the count answered, "I would not presume to enter without the invitation of the master of the house." He paused a moment, the turned his attention to Gerald. "Especially at such an _indecent hour._"

For a moment, Victor got the oddest feeling that Dracula had overheard Gerald's comment, but it was impossible. No human had that good of hearing. And as he looked to his butler, Victor could see that Gerald was un-nerved. Right away, it again set off alarms in Victor's mind. Gerald had been serving the Frankenstein family since Victor was a boy, and never had he seen the man so uncomfortable as he was now.

But he was being rude, making his visitor stand outside for so long. "Please," Victor said, turning to face the count again. "Do come in, I apologize for how long you have waited out here in the cold."

Dracula bowed his head slightly, and as he stepped over the threshold, there was a suddenly chill in the air. Victor could almost swear that it was not the night air, but the presence of the count, but such an idea was ridiculous. "Brandy?" he offered.

"Yes, thank you."

"Gerald," Victor called. "We'll take it in the library." He led the count into the large room and gestured to one of the large comfortable chairs that sat before the fireplace, surrounded now by his family's many books.

"My arrival is clearly a surprise to you," the count said upon taking his seat. "So I must for that and the lateness of the hour."

Victor glanced to his guest for a moment. There was something odd about the heavy accent that Dracula had. Certainly, his Romanian was perfect, but there was a trace of something else as well in his accent. "Quite all right," he finally said.

"I wrote to you some time ago to inform you of my impending visit."

Ah, that explained it. "You must forgive me then," Victor replied. "I have been traveling, and had not yet read my letters. It is my fault." Gerald arrived then with the brandy. Victor smiled, handed the count a glass, and then raised his own. "Cheers."

Dracula returned the gesture, but did not drink from the glass before putting it down. "Perhaps later," he said almost in apology. "I do not wish to be rude."

His worry was piqued. Certainly, Victor noted, this was odd behavior...but no odder than an aristocrat showing up at one's door after ten at night. "What can I do for you, Count Tepes?"

"Dracula, please," the count insisted. He then smiled, but it was joyless, and the gesture did not reach his eyes - eyes there were now boring into Victor, so much that it was disturbing. But he shook away the feeling; the count had been nothing but courteous, and was his guest, after all.

"I am very interested in your work," Dracula continued, giving a small gesture of his hand. "I learned of your presentation to the university and have managed to obtain a copy of your application materials for the Goldstadf Fellowship." He paused for a moment. "I find your theories quite...thought-provoking."

Victor looked at the man, searching for any sign of irony or mockery. There was none. It was astounding to him, being that thus far, the only people who had inquired about Victor's work were journalists who wished to ridicule him.

"I assure you, Doctor, I am quite serious," the count continued, almost as if he could read Victor's thoughts. "From time to time, I have been known to be a benefactor of scientific research." Again, he paused. "I'm here to speak with you about a grant. It is my opinion that your work could be very important, and I have significant means with which you can leave you legacy upon this world."

Victor didn't say anything. It was almost too good to be true, which is why there had to be a catch. "You must forgive me for being suspicious," he said, trying to keep all pretenses of respect for his guest. "But while I see my work's great potential, I am so far alone in my enthusiasm. So you can understand-"

"Hesitation to accept my offer," the count finished. He again smiled. "I take no offense, Doctor. But I am offering you a chance to have your name placed with the giants; Hippocrates, Pasteur... I give you my support, and together, we will help the world realize the potential of your work."

_Those eyes._ They seemed to draw Victor in, almost sapping his will. But it had to just be his imagination. Here, the count was offering his aid, his support...his friendship. And certainly, such a friend was one Victor would be a fool to pass by.

"I was thinking of equipping you with a full laboratory," Dracula remarked, almost off-hand in his casualness. "New equipment, anything you require to speed up your research."

He nearly lost his breath. "Count," Victor stuttered. "I...I don't know what to say. But surely, you recognize that such is a costly order. Much of the equipment must be designed and built to new specifications. Such is why I approached the university; I had hoped to involve the science and chemistry departments."

"I can assure you," Dracula replied with a voice of utter calm. "My means _are_ considerable. Whatever you need, I shall acquire. And just think of what we can accomplish together!"

He rose to leave, then bowed. "Begin making a list of what you will need," the count said. "If it is acceptable, I shall return tomorrow evening to further discuss these matters."

Victor nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, of course," he replied while he walked to the count to the door. "I don't know how to thank you, Count Dracula."

The count simply nodded and shook Victor's hand. It was then that he noticed something else that was odd about his new acquaintance; his hands were icy cold, like the grip of death. Then, Dracula broke contact, gazed at him once more in the eyes, and departed. Seconds later, he had vanished into the night.

Far too excited to sleep now, Victor headed back towards his study when he felt suddenly dizzy, like he stood up too quickly from his seat. He shook it away, reaching his office and sitting back down at his desk to return to his work. The count had just offered him the chance of a lifetime. The least he could do was be ready for their next meeting.

But something had been nagging at him throughout the whole conversation, and now, Victor realized what it was. All the oddities about the count, all the strange circumstances of his arrival, Frankenstein now realized the foremost thing that was wrong with his arrival.

Dracula had arrived in the dead of the night, but there had been no coach waiting for him. Not even a horse in the drive. And just the same, there had been nothing for him to depart on.


	3. Chapter 2

"Igor! Throw the switches!"

Doctor Frankenstein's assistant make a face for a moment, then grabbed the massive levers and pulled down, igniting a chain reaction of electrical fury while lightening flashed outside. His defining feature was the horrible twists in his back, which forced him to hunch sharply to one side. His facial features were blunt, almost unsightly, and he was un-naturally pale. He had no eyebrows over his small, deep-set eyes, and long stringy black hair hung over the man's face.

Victor had harbored doubts about hiring Igor to assist him. It was not his appearance, though that alone was disturbing enough. No, it was something about his presence, and Frankenstein could not quite put his finger on it. But, Count Dracula has felt strongly about Igor, and so, trusting his friend, Victor had kept the man on.

The count. If there was ever a man so taken with desire for results, it was Dracula. As of late, the count's insistence had been somewhat unnerving. He had, as promised, given Victor everything he asked for, even gave him this castle in which to set up his laboratory. But, despite the overtures of friendship, Victor could not help but feel that Dracula had some other motive in the matter.

A crash of thunder again, and a bolt of lightning, along with the thunderclap that soon came after, that slammed down into the tower. Electricity coursed down through the conductors, pulsing through thick wires and arcing across contact points. Frankenstein hurried now, carefully flipping switches in proper sequence. Everything had to be done just right, so that life would be brought to his creation...his son.

Bounded to the specially built pod that was raised up high was Victor's greatest work. A figure clothes in bandages, sewn together by Frankenstein's own hands. Pieced together from parts selected carefully from seven different cadavers, using surgical techniques not even yet dreamed of by his colleges. And even now, it was just the beginning.

Another bolt slammed down, this time impacting on the pod and cascading about while the generators hit their maximum output. It was in the hands of the forces of nature now, and Victor could only hope he had done everything right. And then, just as suddenly, a second bolt came down from the sky, hitting the pod again. He turn to Igor and gestured for the pod to be lowered swiftly. "Hurry!" Frankenstein called to his assistant. And, as the deformed man begrudgingly complied, Victor ran to the pod, and, as he saw movement, was driven to tears.

He did not know if they were shed in the passing of his old life or in joy of the start of his new, but at that moment, when his creation gave out its first cry of life, Victor was overcome with emotion. Only one phrase could describe his triumph. "He's alive," he whispered, seeing the form now drawing breath. "He's alive..._he's aliiiiiive!_"

The rush of euphoria was incredible. Surely, this feeling was what God Himself must have known in His greatest moment of creation. All of Victor's sacrifices, his endless work, it all now had come to fruitation, and he hand accomplished something that no one else in the history of the world had done.

But then, his joy was shattered when he heard a crash. The sound of splintering wood, the roars of an angry crowd. Running to the window, Victor saw a torch-bearing mob outside in the night. He knew why they had come, feeling a chill as he realized that their anger was righteous. Oh, if only he could talk to them, explain why some of his unconventional methods had been necessary.

Some were carrying a tree trunk. They charged forward, bringing the battering ram crashing into the castle's front gates. Wood splintered, but the gates held. However, Victor knew that it would not hold them for long. He would not be given the time to explain and justify his work and the incredible value it held. His greatest creation - his son - was in danger. And they would never understand; how could they? This mob would look on his son and see only a monster.

Where was his friend? Where was the count? Dracula was his friend, he should be helping to protect him. So why had he abandoned Victor now?

"Success!"

Victor jumped at the voice and whirled around to find himself face-to-face with a dark figure. The fear in his heart burst up through his throat, and he screamed. But then, he recognized the features, and for a moment, his terror was calmed.

"Count," he gasped, trying to regain his breath. "It's just you."

He stepped forward, illuminated by the light of electrical burst arcing about between the connectors. Something was wrong. His eyes were like ice, his voice toneless. "I was beginning to lose faith," he remarked almost flippantly while stepping over to look out the window and down upon the angry mob. "A pity that your triumph is being spoiled by a little thing like, grave robbery."

* * *

Down below, the mob surged forward again, moving as if they were a single organism. And as that single being, they had a sole purpose; revenge. How could anyone, let alone one who called himself a doctor, commit such an unholy and unspeakable act such as grave robbery? They simply could not comprehend it. But no matter what the reason, it had driven Vaseria into a frenzied state of horror and outrage. Though not all or even most of them had been wrong, it mattered not; they would have vengeance all the same.

The castle was centuries old, and in the past, it had always defended against invading armies, but the villagers were sure that it would fall to them. After all, only one man was in there, and they would have him before the night was done.

At the head of the mass, the village undertaker, dressed in black and wearing a tall top hat, raised his torch. He was unusually pale, even in this low light, and there was what seemed to be a sinister gleam in his eyes, a reprehensible expression of pleasure in the task at hand. "You know what he's doing in there!" he cried, encouraging the angry horde on. "What he's doing to your loved ones!"

The tree trunk was driven forward again, crashing against the gates once more. The weakening gate still held, though, as if refusing to simply give up the fight.

* * *

He was frightened by the utter lack of concern in the count's voice. Grave robbery was a serious charge, no trifle matter to just laugh at. The mob would soon be through the castle gate. From there, the front door would be little trouble...there would be no stopping them.

"I...I must escape this place!" he exclaimed, now hurried to grab what he could and prepare to leave the castle. With a growing panic, he for the first time saw this place for what it truly was; a prison. Less a respectable lab and more a devious dungeon, and there was forever the stench of corruption. The generators, the dynamos, the reaction chambers...they all seemed to be grotesque abominations churning away as his world crumbled around him.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong, here. The count was staring at him, almost as if in contempt, only much worse. It was like...hunger. And in that instant, the blink of an eye, the last certainly Victor had was gone.

"Where will you run, Victor?" Dracula asked calmly. Frankenstein froze for a moment, and looked to see that the count was no longer standing at the window, but now was perched amid the rafters of the watchtower, as if he has magically transported himself there. "Your...peculiar experiments have made you most _un_welcome in much of the civilized world."

There was a touch of insulting malice in the count's voice. Victor knew one thing now that was for certain. He had to get away from here, take his son away from this place...away from the mob, and away from Dracula. Then, he could take the time to sort things out.

Throwing open a nearby traveling chest, Frankenstein frantically began packing. And, while he did so, Victor concentrated on the thing that mattered right now; his son. "I'll take him away," the man stated in a panicky voice. "Far away, where no one will ever find him!" He continued packing, just the things he would need, but with the count nearby, it was so hard to focus.

"Oh no, Victor," the count replied. Again, the direction in which his voice was coming from changed, and Victor turned to see that Dracula was now somehow on the other side of the room, pacing atop the massive mantle over the fire place. It defied all the laws of physics and motion as he understood them, how was Dracula doing this?

And then, Frankenstein realized something. Who was this man really? He had lied to Frankenstein, right from the beginning. And most of all, he had stolen something very important from Victor; his dream.

Dracula smiled, and Victor once more saw those oddly long canines. But now, the fears in the back of his mind sprung forth without resistence, and the old folklore of his childhood was screaming at him. "No, Victor. The time has come for _me_ to take command of him."

"Wha-what are you saying?" Frankenstein's voice was hysterical, even to his own ears.

In less than a heartbeat, Dracula slammed shut the lid of the trunk, and Victor did several double takes between where the count now stood and where he had been standing on the mantle. This was impossible, by all the laws of science! No human man could be doing this!

"Why do you think I brought you here!" the count screamed. "Gave you this castle! Equipped your laboratory!"

Victor backed away slowly. "You...you said you believed in my work," he said, but he barely was able to say the word, fear choking his voice. Even with the scientist in him saying that it was impossible, he was beginning to understand at last that the old legends of his homeland perhaps weren't just myths.

"And I do." Dracula smiled again "But, now that it is, as you yourself have said, a triumph of science," he continued, turning toward the still active generators and raising his fist toward the sky, "over _God!_"

There was an eruption of sparks as the generator overloaded and blew out. Dracula smiled while a crack of lightning served to add to his words. "It must now serve _my_ purpose."

Victor looked for answers in the count's icy blood red eyes. Realization had dawned upon him now, that he had been a mere pawn of an evil agenda. But still, he had to know for what reason his work was to be corrupted. And even then, he could feel the last remnants of Dracula's hold on his mind slip away. Victor gathered what courage he had left and took a step toward the count. "What purpose?"

* * *

A crash of lightning as the villagers raced forward again with their makeshift battering ram. The castle gates, unyielding metal twisting and groaning, gave a loud crack, and the crowds cheered. Though they were near exhaustion, the men holding the tree trunk prepared for another run.

The gate was no match for their force. Seconds later, they were finally through. Victorious cries spread throughout the crowd, and as they poured in through the gateway, the man in the top hat smiled and looked on, urging them to continue. It wouldn't be long now before this task was done.

Something echoed in the rage of his hearing. It was faint, but definitely the howling of a wolf. For a moment, he almost thought it to be something else, but then he recognized the howl as it rang out a second time. "_Dunpeal_," he whispered to himself.

* * *

"Good God!" Frankenstein cried out. He now understood what he had allowed to enter his life, what he had let loose upon the world. It horrified him that such a thing could be possible, but at the same time, he realized that he should have know it all along. "I would kill _myself_ before helping in such a task!"

There was a laugh from the count as he walked toward the pod. "Feel free to," he said flippantly. "I don't actually need _you_ anymore, Victor." He stopped at the pod, looking to Frankenstein's creation. "I just need _him_. He is the key."

Victor looked at his creation, fatherly love in his eyes. "I could never allow him to be used for such evil," he said, for a moment almost forgetting that Dracula was here. But then, he felt it from the count; pure malice. Whatever Dracula was, he was no man, not even a creature. He was a foul thing that should not have been.

And the count gave a smile while bending over the pod. "I could," he finished, then brought his eyes up to glare at Victor. "In fact, my Brides insist upon it, because if not, then they will be rather put out." There was a gleam of anger now in his eyes. "And I can't let you get in my way, not like certain relatives of mine!"

He looked about in panic. "Igor!" Victor cried out. "Help me!"

"You have been so kind to me," the mis-shapen man replied as he walked out from his hiding place. "Thoughtful, caring..." Igor paused, and smiled sinisterly. "But...he pays me."

He was alone. Nothing would help him against the hellspawn Dracula. But he still had himself, and even if he was going to die, Victor would make sure that Dracula would reckon with the last of the Frankensteins. He backed up to the mantle, then reached to the coat of arms he had mounted and drew from it the family sword. He could feel new strength in his body now, a righteous anger fueling him. "Stay back!" he ordered, raising the sword to point toward the count.

Dracula only laughed, and stepped forward. "You can't kill me, Victor," he said, and then, flying the face of all belief, _stepped into the sword_, pushing the blade into his chest. Victor stared in horror at the act, but even as incredible as that was, he continued forward, impaling himself even more on the blade, and now stood only inches form the man's face.

"I'm _already_ dead."

Victor could say nothing. Everything he knew, everything he held true, had just been shattered. This creature, this _thing_ was not of the living. The old stories of Romania were true; vampires were real, and Dracula was one. No, not just any vampire. Victor knew it now. This was the real Dracula, the man who had made that name so infamous. And there was no doubt in his mind now that the count was beyond anything that the ancient Roma gypsies could even imagine.

Dracula grabbed him by the collar, pulled him about, and opened his mouth to reveal his now razor sharp teeth. He looked less human now, and more like the monster he truly was. All remaining color drained form Dracula's inhuman face, and as Victor felt those teeth piercing into his neck, he did not find anger at his death. He had brought it on himself, not heeded the warnings.

But his creation, his _son_...he deserved better. And now, he was going to fall into the control of this monster.

* * *

Flashes of light. Noise, unfamiliar sounds. Focus was difficult. He did not know where he was, what his name was, or if he even had a name. But, there was someone nearby, he knew that much.

Father.

He tried to moved, but something held him down to this table. Straps were hooked to the sides of the platform, but, he was strong. That was his second certainty. He had been made strong. _Father_ had made him strong. He forced his eyes to stay open, to adjust to the light. Soon, he was able to see, and he heard Father's voice.

He knew that voice well. Even before he had become aware, he had heard Father as he worked to bring him life. And he realized that he was looking at the place where Father had given him shape, given him life. He so much wanted to see Father, to touch him, to embrace him and show his love.

But why hadn't Father released him yet?

There was another voice, a colder voice, one that sent a chill through his body. He could hear Father's voice arguing with the other. Father was afraid, he could hear it...and he could _feel_ it. He had to help Father, but he could not get free. Father needed him. He pushed harder.

Something broke. One of the straps was off him. The others snapped easily, and then he felt danger. Something was horribly wrong. He moved slowly, muscles sluggish in response at first. He was strong, but to move his limbs took much concentration.

He looked to Father. There, in the corner, he was pointing a weapon at the other man. A name flashed in his mind, associated with this person; _Dracula_.

Dracula, yes, that was what Father called the other man. A foul name to hear even in thought. Instinct alone told him that Dracula was a corrupt being, and Dracula was approaching Father, no heed to the weapon pointed at him. He intended to harm Father...no, not just harm. He intended to _kill_ Father.

There was not much time, and they were too far away. But that mattered not. He stood up, only to watch at Dracula bent down and _bit_ Father. He could feel the pain, the teeth in Father's neck. Already, he felt the first greatest changed since his awakening. His connection to Father was gone, severed harshly by Dracula. He wasn't fast enough to stop it, he knew that he wouldn't reach them.

But he was strong. And he already hated this man.

* * *

Dracula licked his lips clean of Victor's blood. Igor had already fled the lab. Good, he would be needed later. It would do no good to have put so much effort into the mortal only for this mob to kill him. But, for now, he was appeased. And now, for Frankenstein's creature.

Turning to the pod, Dracula's eyes widened. He walked over to the empty table, looking around until he saw where the creature stood. For a moment, he raised his hand in motion to command the being, but then was shocked by the creature when it listed up a piece of machinery and threw it hard.

The conductor slammed into Dracula's chest, sending it and him flying back into the blazing fireplace. The creature paused for a moment, then walked over and scooped Victor's body into his arms. He heard the voices from outside, angry voices. He turned to leave, stepping down the stairwell and heading for the rear door.

Father had to be saved.

* * *

As he burst out the back doorway, Igor smiled to himself. No doubt, his master had finished feasting himself on the blood of Doctor Frankenstein, and had taken command of the creature. All would be well, and his own rewards would be beyond imagination.

Perhaps the count would be so generous as to grant him immortality.

Something else came out the small doorway. Igor turned in time to see the creature make his way out of the castle and toward the hills in the distance. Something was wrong with the plan. The monster seemed panicked, as if trying to escape Dracula.

And he was carrying Frankenstein's body in his arms.

"Doctor Frankenstein!" Igor cried.

"Look!" came a cry. Igor recognized it at the village undertaker, a man known as Danesti. "It's headed for the windmill! Get it!"

He turned, then fled, not wanting to be caught by the mob. Igor had already once been at the hands of their angry, as the hideous twists of his nek constantly reminded him. But what now concern Igor was that the monster was trying to save Frankenstein. Dracula should have already taken control of it, what could have happened?

Truly, it was a good thing he had fled the laboratory already. It would not to well to be in Dracula's presence when he was angry.

* * *

He kept running, heading for the large building upon the hill. The angry voices were following, he could feel the danger they presented. If they overtook him...

_Father is beyond hurting now..._ a voice deep inside him echoed. For a moment, he refused to believe it, wanting to hold on to the hope that he could save Father. But he knew that there was nothing now that he could do. Still, he owed it to the man who gave him life to try.

He ran.

Reaching the door of the windmill, he threw it open, walking inside just before he turned to quickly close it behind him so that the mob could not catch him. A large latch came down to lock the door, and a familiar sent filled his sense of smell; alcohol. He saw a machine, bottles of liquid, and a nearby set of stairs. Without a second thought, he raced up the stairs as best he could. Father needed him.

* * *

For a moment, held down by the large conductor, Dracula sat. He was stunned, too stunned to move. He could feel the fire burning his skin, but he merely let it. He had been surprised by Frankenstein's creature. He had not been taken off-guard like that in centuries, not since he had become what he was.

Dracula had assumed that the creature would be a mindless beast, even if Victor had been successful. But, that thing actually cared for the blithering fool who had created it. It carried humanity in it, a _soul_. It shouldn't, by all means. It was an automaton, not a true human being.

Frankenstein had been a fool...but a _brilliant_ fool. If he had indeed given that thing not only life, but a true soul, then perhaps it had been a mistake to kill him. It seemed now, however, that the error was irreparable. Victor was dead, beyond the aid of the cursed blood that ran in Dracula's veins. It was just as well, in a way. No doubt, he would have gotten in the way of the plan sooner or later, be he living or undead.

And, it seemed, even in death, Victor had brought Dracula's plans to a crashing halt. The creature had fled, taking the body of its creator with it. But he would not let that _thing_ thwart his plans, not for an instant. Of course, he would kill the creature, but not before Dracula's purpose and his will.

The count pushed the machine off of his body, sending it flying through the air and crashing into a chemical vat. As he walked out of the fire, his skin was revealed to be burned down into the muscle structures, but that mattered little to one who was beyond wounding. A moment of concentration, and his body regenerated itself, right down to the hairs that hung down over his face.

Dracula brushed aside one of the stands of hair, then, looking to the window, sneered. "You can't run from me," he hissed, voice growing deeper as his body changed. Indeed, he was going to enjoy making that creature suffer.

* * *

Frankenstein's creation reached the top of the windmill. Once more outside, he could see the castle in the distance. And down below, he could see the crowd, their faces lit by the torches. The shouting people quickly surrounded the windmill. There was no way out.

For a long moment, nothing happened. He hoped that they would leave him and Father alone in peace. He had done nothing to them, after all. He had not harmed anyone. The night was still, and the crowd fell silent. It was here now that they got their first real look at the ghastly construct they had pursued.

And then, someone stepped forward, throwing their torch onto the mill, breaking the silence and the stillness. It began a reaction, all those with torches throwing them to set the building ablaze, and the outcry resumed.

He struggled to understand their fear, their hatred, their desire to do him harm. "Why!" he cried out. It was then that a second silence came over the crowd, a stunned silence, and they all stared in shock at him. He looked to Father, cradling his body in his arms. "Why?" he asked of them again.

There was a shattering of glass in the distance, a sound that broke the new silence. The crash was followed by a horrid screech. A dark shape emerged from the castle, racing into the sky. Though it was too far to see clearly, he knew that it was the other man, Dracula. He looked like a winged shadow, and was soon joined by three others than came up from over the mountains. There was something wrong about the moments, they were too liquid to be natural.

"Vampires!" someone in the crowd screamed. Soon, they all raced to escape, though the man with the top hat remained unmoving for a moment longer. The creature looked down upon him, and noticed a sinister gleam before the man departed, very calm for one who should have been panicking like the other villagers.

He looked down on his creator, and a tear fell from his eye. "Father..." he whispered, hoping that his creator would wake up. But there was no sign of life in the face of Victor von Frankenstein. Father was gone, and neither the villagers nor the vampire could do any more to him.

But he had lost Father. So much to learn from him, so much to gain, and it would never be. All because of Dracula. And as fury rose in him, he looked toward the sky, bellowing his anger while the floor cracked and collapsed beneath him. And even as he fell, he clutched to Father, for even if it was his end, he would not let go.

* * *

His eyes shifted in form as he swooped down, transforming back into his human form and landing upon the ground. The windmill imploded mere seconds before he had landed, and there was fury in Dracula's eyes. The creature was gone.

His three brides, Aleera, Verona, and Marishka, landed behind him, having reverted into their own humans forms. They wailed in despair, reaching out in vain toward the burning ruins. He did not need to see their faces to understand their pain. He knew their anguish, but at least Dracula was more able to restrain his anger, lest he make them suffer for that which was not their fault.

No, it was the good doctor's fault here. Somehow, he had instilled a sense of morality into his creation, given it a soul. Could it be that God in fact had aided Victor in creating that thing? It was the only way to explain how that creation had gained a soul.

_That creature,_ his mind hissed. He cursed inwardly at having indeed underestimated not only Frankenstein, but his work. It was the second time that the creature had surprised him. A pity it was already dead; he would have greatly enjoyed killing it.


	4. Chapter 3

**_Paris, France _**

1888, One year later

The streets were silent, empty, and soaked by rain. Gas lit lamps filled the night-swept streets, but it did little for this place. If one looked upon the walls of the alleyways, one would see why no one walked the streets of Paris now.

Upon the wall, as a man dressed in black approached, was a poster. Shadows danced across it while he tore it from the wall and looked it over. A wide brim black hat topped his head, angled to hide his eyes to all save those close enough to look under the brimming. His shoulder length brown hair was spread about a bit on his shoulders, and he was wearing a long black Duster overcoat over a brown vest and blue-grey sweater. His face bore a few days worth of beard growth, and as he examined the poster, he frowned.

The poster in his hands bore heavy black block letters that screamed out "Avis de Récompense"; Wanted. And for two thousand francs no less. It seemed that the subject of the poster was indeed causing quite a stir in Paris. And the likeness on the poster was indeed a good one. The only trouble was, it also resembled the man who was currently holding the poster. Such was a problem, since he was not the man wanted, but in fact in pursuit of him.

"Mister Bodiler," he muttered while glancing out onto the streets of Paris. He could see a very large half-built iron tower in the distance, something that registered as rather new in his mind, but such was a feeling he'd come to expect these days. The voice which said it to him was a familiar one; another life, which he could not recall save in flashes and dreams, ever taunting him.

A high-pitched blood-curdling scream pierced the night. With a grunt, he crumbled up the poster and ran down the steps, drawing out a well polished silver revolver and cocking the hammer just in case. His superiors had been right; he was needed here.

It didn't take long for him to find her. She lay on the stone road in front of the Opera Populairé, her throat cut open. He frowned, now glancing to the opera house. There were indeed memories here for him, but they were out of reach, taunting him just like all others. No, wait. He did remember something about this place. Something had happened here, twenty or so years ago. A name...Erik.

Bloodstains led from the young woman's body into the opera. It had been closed for years, it seemed. Last he had heard, they had just cleared out the munitions that were being stored there during the Franco-Prussian War. But, such a place would obviously make an excellent sanctuary for a murderer on the run.

He stepped up to the doors, noting that they had been forced open. More evidence that his quarry was near. His eyes flashed about, searching for more telltale signs of the man he hunted. As he had thought, drops of blood led toward the main theater of the opera house. His mind flashed, warning him almost of things to expect, memories now trying to tell him of danger that could be here, not teasing him.

With a grunt, he kicked open the doors to the theater. A flood of fragmented memories came to his mind. Scenes of the once grand opera house, a glorious chandelier that hung from the ceiling, unmatched performances. But before him now were ruins. Dust covered everything, and the crystal chandelier in his memories now lay upon the stage, a shattered remain of what it had once been.

Something moved in the rafters. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he could hear a heartbeat, see the path in which his quarry had fled. But just as quickly, the sense was gone. The memory, however, was not. He raced down the aisle, taking a leap that brought him onto the stage near the chandelier. His eyes flicked about, their stormy blue glow shining from beneath his hat.

He holstered his revolver, heading for the back of the stage when a rope dropped down, dangling before him a corpse. He jumped back, shocked by the hung body, and there was a laugh. He shifted his gaze upwards to see a man standing above him on the catwalk. The man, dressed in black, with a top hat and overcoat, slid down a second rope and landed perfectly on his feet.

He tilted his own hat in polite greeting. "Evening."

The man in the top hat smiled. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting company," he replied while taking a moment to straighten his suit jacket. He had a very well bred London accent, his face clean shaven, and his features almost noble. However, when one saw his eyes, the insanity within was revealed. "You must forgive me for not preparing for your visit."

"I hate to be such a nuisance," he replied, taking note that his prey was strangely calm in his presence. He shifted his posture slightly while his companion stepped back and walked over to the broken, dust covered chandelier. He knew well who his target was, and that in fact made the man's calm more expected. After all, with the reputation pinned on Jack the Ripper, such was only expected. "I missed you in London."

The man smiled. "Yes, you did," he replied while running his hand over the dusty chandelier. "I'm sure you must have been most disappointed in missing my performance."

He sighed. It was time to get things underway, as usual. But, the man did deserve at the least to hear the charges against him. It was only proper, after all. "Jonathan Bodiler, you are wanted by the Knights of the Templar Order-"

"That's Jack."

He ignored the interruption. "For the rape, mutilation, and murder of fourteen women, the murder of five men, six-"

"Six children, four officers of the police, and two inspectors of Scotland Yard," the man said, his voice calm and collected while he turned on his heel toward his hunter. "Oh, and a dog. Did I forget anything else? I'd so much hate to have left anything out, because I tend to keep a detailed memory of my accomplishments." He grinned, taking off his top hat and throwing it aside. "So, you're the great Van Helsing." A pause. "'tis a pleasure."

"And you're a rather polite person for a deranged psychopath," he replied. His voice dripped with his disgust.

A light chuckle. "Well," the man called Jack quipped as he stepped back, giving a slight bow. "We all have our problems, mister Van Helsing. I'm sure you know that better than anyone."

Indeed, Van Helsing did know it better than most people, possibly better than anyone in the world. "You know," he said while sliding his hand into his coat, resting behind his back. "My superiors would like for you to be taken alive." He paused a moment to allow Jack the time to understand things. "So that you might be tried by the courts in England. I'm sure that Paris would love to have a trial as well for your head."

"Oh would they?" Jack asked in a non-chalant manner. He truly seemed amused by the entire situation; hunted by a man who's name was feared throughout most of the civilized world, who, according to rumor, answered only to the Church, and by all counts, didn't really exist. Much like the Templar Order. "I'm sure they would love to meet me, wouldn't they?"

Van Helsing frowned. His body was already preparing for this, going through the motions. All his training and skills snapped into place in moments like these, and he was familiar with the situation. He'd had a feeling that his quarry wouldn't cooperate with him. Yet, the man was astounding polite for a rapist and a murderer. It obviously was a mere single layer upon the many that made up the insane mind of Jack the Ripper. "Personally, I'd rather just kill you and call it a day."

Jack snorted. He knew that Van Helsing was most serious, but still, he made it obvious who he believed would win the fight. "I'm sure you would."

"Let's make it your decision then, shall we?"

He paused, reaching his right hand into his coat as if rubbing a sore spot. He looked down to his side. "Indeed," he whispered, raising his head up now to reveal the insane gleam in his eyes. "We shall!"

His hand flashed out of his overcoat, revealing a long sharpened knife in his grip. Van Helsing quickly moved away, dodging the slash, and his eyes caught sight of blood already staining the blade. The man didn't even have the decency to wipe the blood from his weapon before using it again. "I'm glad we're in agreement," he muttered, now drawing his own hands out to reveal his silver revolvers. The hammers crashed against the bullets in the chambers, reports like thunder as Jack moved about to dodge the rounds.

As the smoke cleared, there was no sign of the Ripper save an insidious laughter. Van Helsing grunted, looking about the stage of the opera house. Jack's top hat was gone from the floor. It bothered him that the man could move so quickly, so inhumanly fast. More over, his mind was telling him that Jack had plenty of places to hide in this theater house.

_Passages underground_, he thought, moving now in step with the flashes in his mind. It wasn't just stories he'd heard about the events surrounding the opera house, it felt like he had been here, been in the Opera Populairé and explored the world under it. And the fact he knew a name associated with this place. Who was Erik?

He found the entrance into the passages. In his mind flashed the image of a mask. Obviously, whoever "Erik" was, Van Helsing had known him, or at least met him. And more so, Erik had lived in these tunnels.

His guns were at the ready the moment he hit the ground. His eyes looked about, trying to detect any sign of the Ripper in these catacombs. Again, that flash in his mind, and he was off running down the tunnel. Even now, he could hear the sounds of running water, and, when he halted, he could hear something else. A heartbeat, very steady, and a laugh under the rhythmic breathing.

"So ends the music of the night," he whispered. As he crept along the wall, Van Helsing stopped. The breathing was getting sharper. Jack was close, he could feel it. With narrowed eyes, Van Helsing slipped his revolvers back into the holsters at his back, then drew out a pair of circular devices. He came around the corner to see the Ripper now heading up a stairwell, definitely attempting to escape.

Van Helsing shot over the walkway, leaping just as a piece of the flooring crumbled away under him. Apparently, Jack did know how to elude even the most dogged hunter. However, he'd never gone up against the man known by the name Van Helsing. And that would be his downfall.

* * *

The underways of the Paris Opera were indeeda labyrinth, but he'd gotten a good idea of how to navigate the passageways here. Jack was sure, however, that Van Helsing did not have such knowledge. And so, he would get away, without a scratch, and Van Helsing would be trapped down here. Even if he did get out, it would be his luck to be found by the Parisian police and mistaken for the Ripper. That would indeed be amusing, and Jack would watch it from a safe distance, only for them all to realize their error when he resumed his reign elsewhere. 

But by then, Van Helsing would have already been executed for Jack's own crimes. Such was the sweet, yet cruel joke of irony.

It shouldn't have been far to the passage leading out of the underways, but when Jack pushed open the door before him, the place he'd arrived in was not what he expected. This wasn't the opera house basement at all. Instead, it was a massive chamber, water filling the riverway below, and in one corner, mounted on the wall, was a large pipe organ. A bed lay at another wall, but it was worn, covered in mold and dust. This place had not been used in years.

He stepped inside, looking around for another way out. "What is this place?"

"I assume you've never heard of the Phantom of the Opera."

He froze for but a moment, then turned and flashed out his knife. To his shock, the attack was batted away and the hard punch from Van Helsing knocked Jack off the platform. With a yell, he fell down and crashed into the river. Jack pulled himself to his feet, coughing violently to get the disgusting water out of his mouth. He brought up his hand, but his knife was gone, lost now in the river.

With a faint smile on his face, Van Helsing carefully made his way down to the edge of the center dais. This hunt had been interesting, but it was time to finish things. Indeed, it looked almost as if he would be taking the Ripper in alive. "Now, Mister Bodiler," he said while standing over Jack. "I'd imagine you'd like to get out of the nasty Paris sewer water and be turned over to the proper authorities."

There was a laugh from the Ripper. He glanced up to Van Helsing. "Just hand myself over to the bobbies, is that it?" he asked mockingly. There was a glint in his eyes, one that warned Van Helsing that he was planning something. "I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He swung forward, another knife flicking out from a holder in his sleeve. With a push, Van Helsing jumped up and flipped about to land feet first in the river. The smell was putrid, but, in the name of higher justice, he could deal with it. However, this needed to be finished.

He brought up his hands, now holding the two circular devices again. In an instant, eight curved blades sprung out into place from each one, now spinning viciously like buzz saws while he pumped the grips. Indeed, they were an ingenious tool, and he made a note let the builder know how impressed he was.

Jack hesitated, now backing away. His own knife was seeming more like it would be an annoyance to his foe rather than an actual threat. Perhaps trying to lose Van Helsing in the labyrinth of the opera house underways hadn't been such a good idea. A miscalculation that was definitely going to prove costly.

With a heavy breath, Jack stabbed forward. He expected Van Helsing to at least take a step away, but instead, the man brought up one of the lethal devices on his hands and clipped the blade of his own knife in half. This was not going well indeed.

"Rethinking your position?" Van Helsing asked. He could see the uncertainty in Jack's eyes, the fear that was finally being realized. Perhaps it would help this assignment. If he could bring this man in alive, it might get his superiors to let him actually relax for once. Then again, they might conversely just send him on another mission right away. Sometimes, he wondered why he even dreamed of having a quiet moment to get some real rest.

There was a shifting of weight, he could see it even before Jack made it obvious. In the blink of an eye, Van Helsing moved aside just as Jack flung what was left of his knife at him. Clearly, the man was getting desperate, which was both a boon and a problem. While a desperate man was easier to follow, he was harder to predict. Fortunately, Jack ran, just as Van Helsing had predicted. He smiled, stowed away the buzz saw tojos, and ran after Jack as he was racing down the river. Maybe this desperate man would be all too easy to predict.

-

He finally reached the entrance of the opera house basement. No doubt, Van Helsing wasn't far behind, which meant that he would have to hurry through the building to lose him. His clothes were soaked, and there was no hiding the smell of the Paris river. With a deep breath, Jack hurried up the stairs of the basement, re-entering the opera house itself and moving to get out of the theater.

His plan had gone horribly wrong from the moment Van Helsing had shown up. His hope had been to low relatively low for awhile, then, when things had eased off in London, to head back there and resume his work. It seemed that the mythical Templar Order had been one step ahead of him, though. More so, they did indeed exist, and their main agent was a man who was regarded in most places as urban legend.

He had to get away from here, find a place to hide, and this time not draw attention to himself. And right now, getting out of this situation was the primary problem.

With his coat dripping the foul river water behind him, Jack jumped off the stage and raced up the aisle way. Thoughts ran through his head on how to lose Van Helsing. Perhaps he could hide in the Notre Dame cathedral. Surely, Van Helsing would not think to search there.

He reached the bridge, and as of yet, he saw no sign of Van Helsing. It wasn't too far now before he was in sight of the cathedral, and he would be safe there. He could hide himself away in the bell-tower, no one would think to look for him there.

But then, he heard something from under the bridge. Instinct told him to ignore it, but his curiosity tugged at him. It couldn't be Van Helsing, he was still stuck in the maze under the opera house. Cautiously, Jack looked over the railing of the bridge, and saw nothing.

"Nice night for a swim?"

It was impossible, but as Jack spun around, he was greeted by the iron hard fist that came across in a hook punch right to his jaw. He fell to the ground, his mouth sore, and he spit out a tooth, blood mixing with saliva. And standing there, impossibly so, was Van Helsing.

Jack coughed, getting to his feet and backing away. "You just don't bloody give up, do you!"

There wasn't much reaction in Van Helsing's face. "I have a perfect record," he replied calmly. "In seven years, I've never once failed to complete a mission." There was a wry smile on his face now, reflecting on the irony of things. "I'm sure you would know about that kind of record better than anyone."

For a moment, Jack stood there. Then, his face contorting with anger, he ran toward Van Helsing, slamming into the man and knocking them both over the bridge. "I'll take you to Hell with me!" he screamed. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and was pushed away as he lost his grip on Van Helsing. Looking down, Jack found that one of the buzz saws had been jammed into his chest.

And just as fluidly as he had drawn out the tojo, Van Helsing reached into his coat and withdrew a gun-like device. He aimed upwards toward the bridge, weapon at an angle, and pulled the trigger. Instead of a bullet, the gun fired out a large plug that was attached to a long roll of cable. It sailed upwards through the air, slipping through the gap in the railing. At that moment, the plug snapped open to reveal itself as a grapple hook, and fell back to bring the hooks under the cable.

His weight now brought to bear on the cable, it went taut, locking the hooks against the cable and halting Van Helsing's own fall. Jack, however, continued downward, eventually crashing into the river. He fought to stay above the water, struggling against the weight of his soaked clothing, but he was losing blood, and the weight of his overcoat was too much.

"Help me!" he cried. "You must help me! You're ordered to take me alive!"

Van Helsing frowned. He hated it when a monster disguised as a man tried to play on his sympathy. It had happened before, and after the first two times, he'd learned his lesson in trusting his instincts. Jack would not go quietly if saved. He would try and kill Van Helsing and flee. That was not going to happen.

His free hand reaching about to one of his revolvers, Van Helsing drew it out and aimed at the Ripper. "My superiors _prefer_ you alive!" he called down to the struggling man. "However, one way or another, we all know your fate, monster!"

He began to squeeze the trigger, but when Jack sunk beneath the water, he knew it was over. Oh, the murderer would try to swim upward again, but with all that heavy clothing, not to mention the loss of blood, he wouldn't make it. Plus, there were other more unsavory things in the river. Jack was bound to swallow some of that water, and then, he was finished.

Pulling himself up the cable, Van Helsing grunted as he reached the bridge and climbed over the railing. He looked back down on the river, for any sign of the Ripper, just to make sure. Bubbles continued to come up from the depths, but little else.

The bubbles were getting bigger. And more so, something was coming up. He drew out his revolver again, aiming down at the point where the air bubble were emerging. For a moment, the bubbles stopped, but he held his aim.

After several minutes, the body came up, the tojo gone, but there was no movement. Van Helsing didn't lower his weapon until he failed to hear a heartbeat. It was then that he holstered his gun and sighed. "_Requiescat in pace,_" came his whispered prayer as he made the sign of the cross. This mission was over.

He had beaten the Ripper, just as ordered. However, getting the body was going to be hell, and he didn't have time for that kind of recovery work. He was tired, soaking wet, and more important, the water he was drenched in stank. A shower and the chance to wash his attire would be a nice reprieve from his work.

But right now, he had other things to worry about, such as vacating the scene before the gendarmes arrived. It would do no could to have completed these assignment only for the authorities to come and arrest him. Van Helsing seriously doubt that the Templar wanted the trouble of that kind of incident.

Turning, he raced across the bridge and toward the alleyway where his horse was bound to still be waiting. With so few people out tonight, he would hopefully have little trouble in departing. All in all, it wasn't too bad of a mission; he'd only lost a couple pieces of equipment, which was bound to make someone he knew very upset regardless, and he'd been able to avoid involving the local authorities. That latter point was bound to make the cardinal happy.

He came to a halt as, when he was entering the alleyway, a pair of men stepped out of the nearby pub to see what was going on. Van Helsing could now hear a rise of voices from down at the bridge, and right now, he had to get out of there. "Bloody hell," he muttered just as one of the men pointed at him accusingly.

"_Vous!_" the man roared. His companion moved to restrain Van Helsing, then halted when the man quickly drew out one of his revolvers. He was not in the mood for a delay like this, nor did he deserve it. Van Helsing didn't plan on actually shooting either man, but, all the same, he cocked the hammer to make his point. Did he ever detest the French right now.

A boy stepped out from behind the man Van Helsing was aiming at. It was clearly obvious he was the boy's father.

His stomach lurched. He had hoped that, worst come to worst, he would only have to shot the men in the legs, some non-fatal shot to disable them for now. But with this, he couldn't do it. And just as quickly, Van Helsing un-cocked the gun and holstered it, now running down the alleyway while the men and the boy watched in shock. Perhaps this would get them to not try following. It was obvious they had assumed him to be the Ripper, but since he had not tried killing either of them, nor the child, it might have worked in his favor.

There. Just as he'd left it, his horse awaited in the alley. With a grunt, Van Helsing leapt up onto the steed's back and untied the reins before nudging the beast into full run. He had nothing to worry about from those two men and the boy. True, there had been fear in their eyes, but when he'd refrained from attacking, he'd seen relief. It was enough for him right now, but the quicker he could leave France all together, the better.

It didn't take long for him to return to the inn where he had been staying for his tenure in Paris. He tied his horse up in the stable, then, making sure there was no one to catch the smell, he made his way up through the back entrance and to the second floor where his room was. Quickly, Van Helsing peeled off his overcoat and hat, making sure to lessen what resemblance he had to the man he had just executed, and more than likely, Paris would end the search for by the 'morrow.

When he entered his room, he noticed an envelope on his bed. Obviously a telegraph from the Templar, but why would they already be sending him a message? He only arrived in Paris the night before.

Perhaps they were coming to expect his swift work and assumed that he'd already done the job.

Throwing his coat and hat aside, Van Helsing picked up the telegram and opened it. His eyes flicked over the message, and as he reached the end, noting the name of the sender, he smiled faintly. He'd be leaving first thing in the morning then. Enough time to have breakfast, hear about the finding of the Ripper's body in the river, and then to get out of France.

This mission hadn't been so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 4

**_Transylvania, Hungary _**

The deep forests of Transylvania were already cool with the bite of the coming winter. In the misty gloom and the fading moonlight, a young girl stood, breathing heavily in fear. Her auburn hair came over her shoulders and down her back, her deep sea blue eyes looking around for any sign of danger. There was a look of royal bearing in her features, but the air she gave was anything but. She was scared, pure and simple. 

An unusual silence had descended on the forest. Even the early morning mountain winds were barely a rustle among the tree branches. It was enough to un-nerve anyone. 

A twig snapped. She spun around, her breathing becoming more erratic as she looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. Why she had volunteered for this, she still wasn't sure. She should have listened to everyone else and left it to her cousin, but Anastasia Corvinus still had felt the need to help in stopping some part of what ever plot the vampires were building. 

Now she wished she had listened and stayed home. She wouldn't be here as bait for one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. 

"Where are you?" she whispered, eyes flitting around as more sounds could be heard. "Dracula unleashed you for a reason..." 

She turned, now seeing something coming, coming very fast, and it was breathing heavily. It didn't take much to figure out that it was the werewolf, coming to attack its prey. The moment she had seen it, she ran, hurrying as fast as she could through the forest. So far, things were going according to plan, but if even one thing went wrong, she was doomed. All she had to do now, though, was get to the clearing. 

Anna ran through the forests, and despite running with every ounce of strength she had, she knew that the werewolf was closing on her. It was faster than her, stronger, and if it caught her, it would tear her apart. She was nothing compared to that beast. The blood and meat set out as secondary bait had already worked the creature into a frenzy. 

She raced into the clearing, bolting for safety. She almost had forgotten where to go when she felt the ground slacken under her. Anna gasped as she reach solid ground again, and looking back, the werewolf burst from the trees, still coming for her. It was only by luck and the design of the carefully laid trap that the beast fell through the false ground and into a pit. 

"Cut the rope!" someone cried. The moment Anna heard the werewolf hit the ground, there was the sound of an axe hitting wood. High up in the trees, as a large cage and net rose from the pit, waited a young man, who had black hair and brown eyes that burned with anger. He waited there, drawing out a revolver and aiming as the cage, along with the werewolf inside, rose toward him. 

Anna watched, knowing that her cousin, Velkan Valerious, couldn't possibly miss that shot at fifty yards, and there was much less than that separating him from the monster. But something went wrong. He fired, but at that moment, the top of the cage shut, blocking the silver bullet from hitting its target. Even worse, the cage slammed into Velkan on its way up into the trees. His revolver went flying, and Velkan was now stuck on tope of the cage, he and the cage tearing upwards through the huge trees. 

Far above in the trees, it came to a halt. Velkan took his chance and jumped off onto a sturdy branch, safe now for the moment. But it did little to comfort Anna. Two things had already gone wrong on this hunt, and while it was a miracle they had recovered from the first, it seemed impossible that the werewolf would let them survive the second. 

The creature began thrashing around in the cage. Foolishly, the men on the ground raised their rifles and fired. Some shots hit their target, some bounced off the strong iron, but some hit the ropes, weakening them. One broke as if on cue, and then another. 

"No!" Velkan screamed, knowing well that the riflemen would doing much more harm than good. "My gun! Find _my_ gun!" 

Anna looked about on the ground. "Find Velkan's gun!" she cried in vain. "It has to be the silver bullets!" 

There it was, laying in the leaves. She heard another rope snap, but there was no other choice. If the werewolf got free, it was all over. Anna took the chance and sprung for the revolver, but at that moment, the last rope snapped and the cage dropped to the ground just a few feet in front of her. 

With a high-pitch scream just as the werewolf tore open the cage, the girl did the only thing she could do; run. She didn't even bother to look back, she knew that the werewolf was right on her heels. It would not rest until she was dead. She prayed that someone would save her, but she knew that the best she could hope for was to given Velkan the precious time he needed. In that, at least her death, and the end of her family, would not be in vain. 

She knew these woods well enough, and Anna knew that she would soon run out of ground before the creature caught her. Scrambling out of the forest, she came upon a few yards of clearing, and barely managed to skid to a halt before going over the cliff- the edge of the Transylvanian Plateau, twelve hundred feet up. Looking down, she could barely see the bottom, the mighty river below. 

Spinning around, she heard the angry roar. She was going to die here, or worse. Either way, it was over, and Velkan would be the one to bear the burden. Ever since her father vanished two years ago, her mother having died from birthing complications, Anna had been alone, with only the Valerious family to go to. Last of the Corvinus line, descendent of Matthias Corvinus himself, one of the last remaining ancient royal bloodlines in Romania and Hungary, and she was going to die here as a scared little girl. 

The werewolf launched from out of the trees, sailing through the air toward Anna. She closed her eyes, waiting for that moment of pain. At least it would be over quickly. 

It never came. Instead, something shoved her roughly to the side, and Anna opened her eyes to see what had saved her. No, not something, _someone_: Velkan. 

"_No!_" she screamed and she hit the ground hard. Velkan stood steadfast, raised his revolver toward the great creature, and fired. It did little good though, even as the beast howled in pain. The werewolf continued to fly toward him, crashing into Velkan and biting into his shoulder before throwing him backwards... 

...into the abyss. 

Her mind couldn't comprehend what had just happened, could not accept that what she had just seen was possible. Velkan was the strong one, the one with real courage. He had promised to always be there for Anna, he couldn't be gone. And she owed him her life, twice now. He couldn't leave her now, not with that debt unpaid 

She looked over the edge, expecting him to be there hanging from a bush or a root. He would pull himself up and give her a smile - that self-satisfied smile that drove her crazy. 

Anna looked and saw a splash below, the only sign of his fall. She couldn't believe it; he was gone. He had taken in her in when her father never came back, promised to look after her as not a cousin, but a sister, and now he was gone. 

A soft hand took hold of her shoulder. She looked to the gloved hand and knew already who it was. "Lord Tepes," she whispered, trying to hold back her tears. "He...he's..." 

Turning the girl around, the man holding her shoulder nodded and held her close. It was then that she finally broke down and began to cry, staining his rich black velvet coat with her tears. He didn't stop her though; he knew well her pain. 

"He made a noble sacrifice," the man said. He looked out at the ravine, sorrow in his eyes, but all he could do was try and comfort the girl. "Do not let it be in vain, Anna." 

There was a noise from behind him. Anna looked back at saw what it was; the werewolf, lying in the brushes. She tore away from the man whom she called Tepes, grabbed the gun from where it lay on the ground, and walked over to aim at the creature's head. It wasn't much, but at least she could finish her cousin's work. "At least you'll be his honor guard in the afterlife!" 

"Anna!" 

She halted at the call of Lord Tepes, and then, she saw why he had meant for her to hesitate; the werewolf was shifting. Rippling and shrinking, the creature shed its fur like a second skin and disappeared before her eyes. And in its place was an old man in the last moments of his life. Anna could see the bullet wound in his chest; Velkan had not missed his mark. 

"Thank you," the old man whispered. He wheeze, unable to breath, but still he smiled. "I'm...free..." 

_You killed my cousin!_ her mind screamed, but then, she remembered that this man was not at fault; he too had been a victim. _Not you...the creature you became._

He exhaled a final time, then fell silent. Anna dropped the gun from her hands and turned to bury her face in Tepes' coat. "Oh god," she whispered, hoping that the deity could hear her. "Please, help us." 


	6. Chapter 5

**_Rome, Italy _**

A week later, after the battle in Paris, Van Helsing the rode into Rome, a dark-cloaked figure upon a black stallion. He made his way to the Vatican, noting how strained it was in the area of the city's walls. The holy city had not been allowed its political immunities in full since 1871 when Rome had been seized by Victor Emmanuel. It was sad really, but at the least, things inside the walls were safe from attack. 

He passed through the great gates and rode hard across the massive Piazza San Pletro, the tremendous open space in front of Saint Peter's Basilica. He was surrounded once more by history, by the past. Bells chimed as he passed the great fountains and the two semicircular rows of columns that surrounded the open space. 

Bringing his horse to a slow trot, Van Helsing looked up at the basilica. For some reason, he had always felt so distant when here, so detached from the world. He knew the lore behind this place, the oldest and grandest church in all of Christandom, certainly the center of the Christian world in Europe. Saint Peter, one of the apostles of Christ, had suffered the Savior's fate on earth and was crucified, though he had, again according to lore, insisted on an inverted cross in his humility. In accordance with the lore of the Church, the basilica was said to have been built on the site of Peter's burial - on his very blood. 

Reaching the stairs, Van Helsing brought his horse to a stop and dismounted. There was a friar there who took his horse, and he nodded his thanks. It was then, seeing the figure waiting for him at the top of the steps, that Van Helsing allowed himself a smile. It was a familiar figure, though Van Helsing had memories of when he was able to walk unaided on both his feet, and the cane he was now force to rely on was still unbecoming of the man. 

"Quite a stir you caused in Paris, yah?" 

"Nice to see you too, dad," Van Helsing replied in return greeting. He gave a laugh and walked over to give the man a heartfelt hug. "I thought you were off back in Amsterdam." 

Abraham Van Helsing, the well known professor of philosophy, a master of knowledge on exotic diseases, and one time field agent of the Templar, nodded slightly as they ended the embrace. "Well, when the old home calls for you, you come home." He grinned and turned about, cane one step ahead of him, to lead Van Helsing into the basilica. "As I was the one who sent you the telegram, it should be no surprise that I'm here." 

Entering into the church, Van Helsing and the professor crossed the polished marble floor. The light inside came from the clerestories, the upper portion of the walls holding the stained glass windows, and was intended to give a warm colorful feeling to those inside as they marveled at the wonder of creation and peace. However, Van Helsing felt neither. 

Built in the shape of a cross, much like many great cathedrals of the era, there was a great dome at the center, painted by Michelangelo himself. The structure itself was several hundred feet deep, and regardless of how many people were in the basilica, there was always a strong echo. Right now, that echo was being used for the Gregorian chants of the monks. 

In the past, Van Helsing had taken comfort in those chants, but now, they held little for him. The whole building seemed to be judging him, and finding him wanting. Even with the professor at his side, he was uncomfortable here now. 

They came to an ornate confessional. Van Helsing looked the professor, who nodded, and stepped inside. He was already dreading this, because he knew well what was coming. However, still, he removed his hat and sat on the bench before making the sign of the cross. "Bless me, Father," he whispered. "For I have-" 

"Sinned, yes, I know," came the harsh reply from the other side of the confessional. Van Helsing gave a wry smile and turned away slightly as the tiny partition door was opened on the other side to reveal the man listening. "You're very good at _that._" 

Cardinal Jinette was unmistakable in his voice; angry, indignant, and disappointed. "We wanted him _alive_, not a river soaked corpse!" 

"Well, not to split hairs," Van Helsing quickly shot back. "But he did try to _kill_ me." 

There was no reply, and for a moment, Van Helsing thought he may have won this fight. "You were fortunate that he did not try taking refuge in Notre Dame," was all the cardinal said. He huffed, trying hard to avoid thinking about the result of things if that had happened. "With your talent for destroying things, you might have ended up bringing the whole cathedral to the ground." 

"Just the Rose Window," came his snappy remark. Such a round of bantering was common place between him and Cardinal Jinette. Even now, he could hear the professor trying not to laugh. That brought him some joy; at least someone agreed with him on the matter. 

Jinette glared at him through the wooden mesh. "I wish you a week in Hell." 

"It would be a nice reprieve," Van Helsing shot back. To be honest, he was getting tired of this. He hadn't been able to get a good night's rest in weeks now, and every time he got back from an assignment, Jinette was quick to send him right back out into the field. 

"Don't get me wrong," the cardinal said, finally seeming to calm down. "Your results are unquestionable. But your _methods_ leave much to be desired." He paused a moment, now giving Van Helsing a look of displeasure. "Just a month ago, you almost destroyed every glass window in the church in Dublin." 

Oh, _that_ assignment. Yes, Van Helsing remembered that well enough. "It's not like Mister Hyde gave me many options," he retorted, hoping to regain some victory in this verbal fight. "So it's not my fault that I can't go there anymore." 

"Not your fault! They have _wanted posters_ all over Ireland for you!" 

He didn't need to be reminded of that. It was the reason that the Order now had a team of field agents specifically for all of Ireland. "You think I like being one of the most wanted men in Europe? What do you think it does to the professor's reputation and name, why don't you and the Order do something about it!" 

The mesh was flung open, and Jinette pushed his face toward Van Helsing's. "Because _we_," he stated coldly, "do _not_ exist." 

If that's how it was, then so be it. "Then neither do _I_," he replied, standing up to leave. He threw open the door of the confessional and walked out before Jinette could react, but it was the professor who stopped him. 

"You know well you can't win these fights like that," he said, his eyes gesturing in glance to the cardinal. "My boy, need I remind you why you are here?" 

Van Helsing sighed as the professor nodded to Jinette. The cardinal pushed a lever in his box and opened up the back wall of the confessional to reveal a stone passageway leading downward. It was then that Abraham Van Helsing continued while Jinette headed down the passage. "When I found you seven years ago on the steps of this church, bloodied, battered, and half-dead, without a memory of who you are or where you come from, it was clear to me that you had been sent with a purpose from God, to do His work." 

"Why can't He do it Himself then?" Van Helsing replied. 

The cardinal snapped about, nearly ready to explode at that moment. "Don't blaspheme!" he hissed from in the passage doorway. "You already lost your memories as penance for past sins!" 

Professor Van Helsing waved his hands for both men to calm down. "Please," he said, now heading into the confessional and the passegeway that lay within. Van Helsing took the chance to follow the professor, being he wasn't in the mood to deal with Jinette right now. 

"Seven long years, I have looked on you like a son," the professor continued as he slowly walked down the stairwell, heading deeper into the bowels of the basilica. "I gave you a name, and a purpose, one that you have most definitely carried out well. For that, I thank you." 

"You could have given me a first name," Van Helsing replied sourly. Still, there was a smile on his lips. He couldn't get angry with the man he'd thought of as his father for the last several years, not after this long. Abraham had taught him everything he knew, taken him in when others would have thrown him back out. 

The professor smiled. "You know well that you already have one," he said calmly, but there seemed to again be that tone of amusement. "You just need to remember it. Until then, I suggest you continue to heed your calling." 

They came to the bottom of the stairs, now entering into a massive underground cavern that rested deep under Saint Peter's Basilica. The armory was enormous, and yet was still only a tiny part of the great subterranean universe that sprawled out beneath the Vatican City. This was the heart of the Order of the Templar, sworn to battle the greatest evils. 

As usual, the armory was bustling with activity. Roaring fires that, as the heat hit him, felt to Van Helsing like the wrath of God being harnessed. Every great religion, Christian and otherwise, was represented here, from Jewish rabbis to Muslim imams. And they all had united, despite theological differences, to be part of the fight against darkness. Even now, Van Helsing could see the results of that cooperation. In the corner, Christian monks worked the bellows, stoking the fires while Chinese Taoists forged red-hot blades. 

And there was a war going on. Van Helsing had just been on the front lines of it a week ago, and now, he was back at headquarters for new orders. Most likely, he wouldn't even be given a chance to rest before heading out again. 

"Governments and empires, they come and go," the professor began as he looked around at the work being done. Van Helsing knew the speech; it was one Jinette often gave himself. But the professor seemed to have a way of making it mean something. "Rising and crumbling, but the Order of the Templar has been here since before even the rise of Christian civilization, defending mankind from evil, an evil that at times it does not even know exists." He paused and looked to Van Helsing. "Amazing that such a thing could be, yah?" 

He found it hard not to agree. If the professor was one thing, it was convincing. It was a shame that he could no longer join in field operations like he had until two years ago. "It's still not the same without you," Van Helsing commented, reflecting on those memories. "We lost Quincy to that damn Count Orlock." 

There was a moment of silence from Professor Van Helsing. He sighed, nodded, then continued into the cavern to lead Van Helsing down the armory. "Yes, and I know how difficult it is for you. To those who never face the darkness, the beings you fight are just monsters." There, again, was that look of sympathy and understanding. "You are the one who left standing there when the monster dies and becomes the man they once were." A smile danced on his lips now. "But it is all a test of faith for you." 

"A test of faith?" 

The professor nodded and came to a halt. "Yes, that is why you have no memory of who you are or where you come from." 

There. For a time, Van Helsing had suspected that the professor knew exactly who he was, his lost memories, and this was much an indication of proof. "Say for example, you met God. He gave you a task, and sent you to do His work. Now, if you remembered it all, then you would have no question of what you were doing, no fear at all, because you would know that God was on your side." He paused, noticing the hope of realization that grew on Van Helsing's face. A great bubble he had made, and it was time to bring it down. Not pop the bubble, but reduce the size. 

"But if you had no memory of it," he continued, "then you would wonder, every day, if you could do what had been given to you. And thus, your faith is tested every day." 

Not exactly an answer, not the one he was looking for. But the professor was right; he was being tested. Still, how much did Abraham know about him, about his past, his identity? Certainly more than he was saying this day, that was for sure. 

But it was true. Van Helsing knew that, if he knew the answers, he would have many less worries about what he did. He hoped that learning his past would make it easier to bear the terrible price he had to in the line of his duty. But it did little to lessen the weariness that had descended on him, and felt like it weighed more than his body. 

The professor glanced back at the moment and smiled. "Cardinal Jinette," he called. Van Helsing turned to see Jinette walking over, his expression certainly more pleasant now. He knew what was coming now; they were about to send him off on a new mission. "We should now get to the issue we discussed earlier." 

"Indeed," the cardinal replied. He snapped his fingers, and the lights in this part of the chamber were dimmed. A slide projector was turned on to display a map of Eastern Europe on the roll-down screen. He glanced to Van Helsing. "We need you to go to the east, to the Balkans in the far side of Romania. Specifically, Walachia." 

His eyes lit up as images flashed in his mind. "Walachia?" he echoed, except that unlike the cardinal, his pronunciation of the word was different, almost as if it was said with the perfect accent. That had always been something of note to his mind; his accent constantly shifted depending on the language he spoke. At times when speaking English, he sounded American, at others, a light British, but when speaking in other tongues, one would think he was a native speaker of the language. 

"Yes," the professor added, nodding to Jintte as he hobbled over to assume command of the briefing. "We're sending you to Tirgoviste, it's a city that rests in the south regions of Walachia." He paused a moment, looking at the map, then turning to face Van Helsing. "It's an accursed land, son. Filled with nightmarish creatures, some of which we have before encountered." 

Van Helsing looked at the map. There was something familiar about the area, and not just the name. Something in his fragments of lost memories, true, but something else. "Don't we already have someone out there?" he said, now knowing what he was recalling. 

"Richter, you mean," the professor answered. He nodded slightly. "Yes, but unfortunately, we've not heard from Richter since Orlock. We hope that it is merely a lack of communication, but we fear the worst." He paused for a moment, then nodded to the monk manning the projector. "If he still lives, son, then you will have his aid. But we must focus now on these matters." 

The image of the map became a blank square of light, and then was replaced by an old painted image of a man, obviously of East European royalty. He was a handsome man, long hair, well groomed beard and mustache, but the face tugged at Van Helsing's mind. Images flashed in his mind of a battle, blood everywhere, people held in the air by poles and pikes. It was a feeling of death. 

He _knew_ that face. 

Evidentally, the expression on Van Helsing's face did not go unnoticed by the professor. "Count Dracula," he said, noting the conflict in the man's eyes. There was recognition there, like Van Helsing knew the count in more than just name. "Yes, the same Dracula who once fought for the Church against the Turks, born into the Order of the Dragon. Vlad Dracula...the Impaler." The professor glanced to Jinette, who had the expression of disgust. He knew well why, and he did not blame the cardinal for his reaction. "But, that was then, and not now. 

"Now, he reigns over the region as a vampire lord, preying on Walachia." Abraham paused, nodded to the projectionist, and continued once the image had changed to that of another noble. This man was more clean in appearance than Dracula, with eyes that bore determination. "King Matthias Corvinus, lord of Austria and Hungary in the fifteenth century. He once was Dracula's liege, and when Dracula became a vampire in the later half of the fourteen hundreds, he swore an oath to God that neither he nor his family would rest or enter Heaven until Dracula had been destroyed." The professor hesitated at that. There was worry in his eyes, Van Helsing could see it. "They have yet, obviously, to succeed...and they are running out of family." 

The image changed again, now showing the grainy photograph of a robust older man. There was definitely a resemblance between this man and Matthias. "His descendent, Nicholas Corvinus," the cardinal stated. "He disappeared about two years ago, from what our contact in Tirgoviste has told us." The image changed again to what looked like a family photograph. "The Valerious clan, who have sworn to aid the Corvinus blood in their mission. Nicholas married the sister of Boris Valerious, and as a result, these two families are bound not only by oaths, but also by blood." 

With a grunt, the professor once more resumed his command of the briefing. It was something that Van Helsing was grateful for; he much preferred his adoptive father over the cardinal any day. "Our concern here is primarily the Corvinus, however." Once again, the image changed, showing a young man, about twenty years of age, with curly hair and eyes that shined with confidence. "Velkan Valrious, who died just a few days ago, so we've been told. As a result, your job is two-fold." 

The picture changed again, now showing a girl in what looked like a traditional dress of noble birth. She was young, perhaps eighteen or so, with a tender expression in her eyes. "Anastasia Corvinus," Abraham stated. He noticed the concern in Van Helsing's eyes. "Yes, she is the last of the Corvinus. If she is killed before Dracula is destroyed, nine generations of two families will never enter the gates of Saint Peter." He paused, making his point clear now. "She must stay alive, son." 

The lights came back on, causing Van Helsing to blink rapidly in reaction to the sudden change in brightness. Cardinal Jinette sighed and gestured for one of the monks to retrieve something for him. "For over four centuries, the Corvinus and the Valerious clans have guarded our left flank, spilling their blood and giving their lives for the cause. We cannot let them slip in to eternal purgatory." 

He grunted. He knew what his job entailed. "So you send me into Hell," Van Helsing quipped. He glanced to the professor, who only nodded. "Bloody lovely. So, what should I expect to face?" 

"The very darkest creature on this world," Abraham replied. "The vampire is not alive, yet not dead, and I dare say, you've never faced anything like Dracula before." 

"But Count Orlock-" 

He held up his hand. "Count Orlock was a fledgling compared to Dracula," the professor stated calmly. His left leg blazed with pain, and the wounds there had never been able to properly heal. He remembered well the battle with Count Orlock. "And you well remember what a foe _he_ was. We lost Quincy as a price for defeating that beast, I don't intend to lose you to Count Dracula." 

After a moment, Van Helsing nodded in agreement. Professor Van Helsing really was like a father to him, it was no wonder that he tended to take the professor's words to heart. However, then he thought back on something. "That picture of Dracula," he said, turning to face the cardinal. "Let me see it again." 

Jinette, confused by Van Helsing's reaction, nodded and handed him the projector image. It was then, examining the right hand of the picture, that Van Helsing saw it, and brought up his own right hand to compare what he saw to his own ring. They were the same signet; a silver dragon upon a garnet disc. 

Evidentally, Jinette saw the same thing. "It matches your ring," he said. Glancing to the professor, the cardinal sighed. "Perhaps in Walachia, you will find the answers you seek." 

That was it, there was no question now about his decision. Maybe someday, when the professor wasn't there to help him, Van Helsing would finally refuse the cardinal, but today was not it. He had a chance to find some clue to his past, to who he was. Finally understanding his visions, it was too much a temptation. 

A sense of urgency filled him. Van Helsing nodded to the professor, then headed off into the armory. He had to find someone, someone specific. He walked through a blast of steam, past the forges and down a set of stairs. It was then that he saw who he was looking for. "Carl!" he called, reaching the end of the stairway and walking toward his quarry. "Carl!" 

The man in question, dressed in a dark brown loose-fit suit with a pair of gloves on his hands, looked up and brushed aside the dirty-blonde hair that was over his eyes. "There you are!" he snapped. Setting down the vile in his hands, Carlson Seward pulled off his gloves and walked over to Van Helsing. "Did you bring back any of your equipment?" 

"I'm sent after one of the most dangerous men in London, and the first thing he asks about when I get back are his toys," Van Helsing stated. Sadly, he could not hold an angry face for long. He knew that Carl was expressing his own concern, masked behind the facade of putting priority on the tools he built for Van Helsing's assignments. 

Carl knew the routine well. "Did you bring back Bodiler then, or did you kill him, is that better?" he snapped. When Van Helsing gave him that look which said Carl should already know, he snorted. "Figures, that's why they're always so annoyed with you. When you're told to bring someone back, they don't mean as a corpse." 

Carl's wit was refreshing when compared to the cardinal. Of course, Carl was no man of the cloth either, that probably helped. He was a student of Professor Van Helsing's, had been for years, and was one of the most brilliant minds that Van Helsing had ever known. His brother, Jonathan Seward, had also been a student of the professor, but had declined to stay on and never was inducted into the secret world of the Templar. It was just as well. Last Van Helsing had heard about him, Carl was ranting about how his brother was wasting his talent running a sanitarium. 

"I didn't have much choice." 

With the definite beginnings of a smile, Carl walked from his table toward the bustling chaos of the armory. "I can see you're in a mood," he said, now leading Van Helsing through the cavern toward what he knew was Carl's main place of work. "Come on then, I've got a few things to put the bite back in your mouth." 

Now he truly had Van Helsing's attention. While Carl was an overall genius, his area of excel was in weapons development. In fact, it was Carl who had built the buzz-saw tojos after having seen a similar but more primitive weapon that was used by the Chinese, not to mention he had also built the grappling gun which had save Van Helsing's life more than a few times. There was no denying it; Carl was a master inventor years ahead of his time, surpassing many of the best weapon smiths in the world. 

He glanced over as they passed by one of the forges. _Then again,_ he thought while glancing through the racks of swords. _Sometimes the best methods are the oldest and most direct arms._

Carl did not miss the shift of attention. "Oh, any idiot can make a sword!" he snapped in annoyance. He realized perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut when a burly monk turned around from the forge, holding a red hot broadsword in his hand, almost if on cue. "Uh, not referring to you, of course, Father..." 

"Come along, Carl," Van Helsing hissed as he grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him along. Carl was a true genius, and he also had a problem of not knowing when to refrain from opening his mouth. "Next time, let me admire their work." 

There was a rapid nod from the Englishman. 

They came to a large table that was covered with various objects. Carl picked up a large bag and handed it to Van Helsing, then started picking out various things that he knew the man would need. "Rings of garlic," he said, picking out a pair of rings and sliding them into the bag. "Holy water," he continued, pushing the metal flask into the bag. Coming to a stack of wooden stakes, he chuckled and pulled out a set. "Oaken stakes, and silver stake," he said, bringing out a silver handle that extended out a long pointed pike end. "Very handy against werewolves, and it's even worked with vampires." 

Reaching for a large silver cross, Carl was startled when a series of loud reports went off from behind him. Van Helsing, however, looked over at the source of the noise in admiration. It was a large machine with a series of rotary rifle barrels, something developed by an American inventor named Gatling. Carl was obviously jealous that he hadn't thought of the device first, he noted, as he saw the look on his companion's face. Still, one knew a useful device when they saw one. 

"Why can't I take one of those?" he remarked. 

Carl gave him that look, one that suggested he was telling a child why the sky was blue. It was a look Van Helsing hated, especially coming from Carl or the cardinal. "You've never gone after a vampire before, have you?" 

"I have," Van Helsing replied, now swinging the bag over his shoulder while following Carl deeper into the armory. "Unless the professor failed to tell you about Count Orlock. God knows he shouldn't have." He paused. "Besides, what would you know about vampires, you've never been in the field." 

"That," Carl said in a condescending tone, "is why they make books." 

It was true - the Vatican had, without a doubt, the largest library in the world, filled with volumes by Socrates, Copernicus, Da Vinci, and Galileo. Some of the greatest works written by the most brilliant thinkers in history. Van Helsing had no doubt that Carl sought to be counted among those mind, and he no doubt could, and someday would. And right now, he had a feeling he was looking at one of those things that would do it. "What's this stuff?" 

Carl paused and grinned. "Something new," he said while walking over to where the tubes and beakers of thick yellowish fluid was being developed. "Glycerin forty-eight." He placed his finger under a dropper, squeezed out a small drop, then flicked the fluid at the ground where it erupted into a fireball the size of a man. And it caused enough of a commotion as well. Several people started shouting in surprise while Carl began apologizing. 

"What in the name of Allah is wrong with you!" one of the Mulsim imams shouted. Van Helsing could not help but laugh. Carl was a bit absent minded, but he knew what he was doing. 

"Sorry!" he cried out once more, then turned to face Van Helsing. A look of pride was on his face. "The air around here is thick with envy and jealousy," he stated, then headed finally to his work space. "This is something I finally finished while you were gone. It's my latest invention." 

Now, Carl most certainly has his attention. Van Helsing followed the man to where he picked up a large crossbow device that was covered in iron pumps and copper tubes with a large tank in the shoulder stock. The pride on Carl's face could not be rejected; this thing looked effective. 

"This," he said with true envy, "I like." 

"I thought you would," Carl stated with a trace of smug joy. Handing it to Van Helsing, he continued on, explaining the device. "It's gas propelled, which allows it to launch the bolts at a tremendous velocity, and it has rapid fire capability." He paused while Van Helsing tested the handling and looked through the aiming scope. "Just pull the trigger and hold on," he added. He patted the device like a father would his son. "I've heard the stories coming out of Walachia and Bukovina, you'll need this." He beamed once more while watching Van Helsing as he adjusted the optical sight. "It's a work of certifiable genius." 

Van Helsing smiled. Carl never exaggerated when it came to his work, and not often did he say such words; his inventions spoke for themselves. "If you don't say so yourself," he added, now handing the crossbow back to Carl as something else caught his eye. 

The sarcasm and irony didn't effect Carl one bit. After having spent several years in the presence of religious orders, he'd grown immune to criticism. "I did say so myself," he replied, now flicking a switch that caused the bow pieces of the weapon to snap back and lock in place for a more storable configuriation. "I'm a venerable cornucopia of talent." 

"Did you invent this?" Van Helsing asked as he picked up a round spherical device with what looked like a pair of electrodes on the top. Inside was what looked like cooled lava, with some kind of fluid in a catch on the top. It was something he'd never seen before. 

Carl was quick to move over, trying to recover the device, but Van Helsing playfully dodged and kept his hand out of reach from the inventor. "I've been working on that for five years," he stated, trying to get it back while Van Helsing moved about the table. "It's compressed magma from Mount Vesuvius with pure alkali from the Gobi Desert." He finally grabbed the device and put it away in a box. "It's one of a kind." 

That sounded impressive enough, but the results were what Van Helsing wanted to know. "What's it for? 

For a moment, Carl said nothing, but only shrugged. "I've got no idea yet, but I'm sure that it will come in handy." 

"Five years and you don't know what it does?" Even for Carl, that was eccentric. 

"I never said that," Carl snapped back in defense of himself. "I said I don't know what it's _for_. What it _does_ is create a light and heat source equal to the intensity of the sun." He paused as he headed for another bag for equipment. "At least, that's my guess. I don't really have factual data on how intense the sun is, now do I." 

That sounded like Carl alright; making a guess at things and not really having a comparison for it. But it always worked out before. "This will come in handy, how?" Van Helsing asked. He liked to have an idea of what uses something had before testing it in the field. 

"I don't know," Carl replied. "You could, blind your enemy, charbroil a herd of charging wildebeest...use your imagination!" 

He grunted when Carl threw the second bag into his arms. It was time to get this man out of his illusions about the field. "I don't know, Carl," Van Helsing said as Seward began walking away. "I'm going to use yours. You're coming with me." 

Carl stopped in his tracks. He ran those words through his mind several times to make sure he heard it right, then turned around. "The hell be damned I am!" he spat. 

"You cursed!" Van Helsing observed. He pointed an accusing finger at the man. "Not very well mind you, but you're a proper Englishman of London, you shouldn't curse at all." 

"Actually, I'm from Wales, and being an Englishman has nothing to do with being able to curse," Carl quickly retorted. "You know very well, however, that I'm no field agent." 

He nodded, but grinned and threw one of the bags back into Carl's arms. "I also know how much you gripe about how I get all the glory while you do the hard work." He paused before stepping forward to walk past Carl. "I hope your Hungarian is good, I'm not too confident about my own." 


	7. Chapter 6

It was a few days later that Van Helsing and Carl crossed over into the Romanian territories. The train ride had been remarkable smooth, little trouble along the way. It had given Van Helsing time to review what he'd be up against and Carl the chance to make last minute checks on their equipment. It also allowed Van Helsing a good rest, or it would have, if not for the nightmares that had become increasingly more frequent.

When he couldn't sleep, Van Helsing finally resorted to burning the midnight oil and reading up on the threat in Walachia. What caught his eye most of all was the details on vampires; strength of twenty or more men, dependent on the blood of the living to continue their own undead lives, invulnerable to the usual ways of death, and the ability to heal very quickly. On the converse point, they were vulnerable to sunlight, holy water, the smell of garlic and wolfs bane, and in many cases displayed a weakness to silver and gold. With the silver, it was easy to see why; the purest metal. But with gold, it wasn't so obvious. Gold was a metal which caused corruption for its value. Why would it harm a corrupt being?

_Symbolic of the sun,_ that voice in his mind echoed. Right now, he wouldn't mind more help from that voice, being that he knew there was some link to his past in Walachia, but as of yet, he didn't know what it was. Something that had to do with Dracula, that was for sure. Maybe for once, he'd get solid answers to his past instead of fragments and riddles.

When they had pulled into Buda-Pesht, Van Helsing had expected they'd be able to swiftly gain passage to Tirgoviste. Instead, he'd been welcomed by the fact that no one wanted to head into Walachia, not this time of year. It was apparent that Dracula's presence was a major one.

"Lovely," Van Helsing hissed after Carl tried and failed to acquire travel into the Walachian province. "No one will take us into Tirgoviste, all because you have to go through Borgo Pass. What is it about that place? I know about Dracula, but..."

He sighed, knowing that it was hopeless. He didn't know if they could make it on their own, and even if they did, it would be weeks before they got there on foot. Far too long for them to be doing their job. They needed to get there fast.

And he knew how to do it. Oh, Carl would object, being that it was using the professor's reputation, but it was all in the name of the high justice, the greater cause. Besides, it never hurt to once in a while use the name to his advantage.

He headed over to the train office, noting the worn-out look of the main in the room. "Look, might you direct us to someone who _will_ arrange for travel to Tirgoviste?"

"You have to be mad to want to go there," the man replied. "I don't care who you are, but no one is stupid enough to take you into Walachia now."

He grinned. "My name, sir, is Van Helsing. Now, granted, I don't know-"

"Van Helsing!" Yes, that got his attention, just as planned. "Professor Abraham Van Helsing!"

All right, not exactly what he had in mind. He'd planned on using his name for some leverage, not being mistaken for the professor himself, but it was good enough. "Yes," he stated. "I'm trying to get to Tirgoviste, and it's very important. Now, if you would at least direct me and my assistant to a stable of sorts where we can acquire our own steeds, that would be better than nothing."

The man jumped up and nodded energetically. Within seconds, he had bolted out of the travel office, and Carl took the chance to slap Van Helsing in the back. It was a gesture of displeasure and not amusement. "That was very foolish," he hissed, obviously not pleased. "You know very well that the professor is infinitely more knowledged in these matters!"

He chuckled. "Carl, we need to get there as soon as possible," Van Helsing replied while picking up one of his bags and sliding the carry strap over his shoulder. "Besides, there's only two things I need to know in these matters; what are we up against, and how do I kill it. Anything more is just fluff."

Seward frowned. Van Helsing was a very capable man, no denying, but he had a certain ignorance with matters like this. It was definitely one of his major flaws. And just what did Professor Van Helsing see in this man, what was it that brought the professor to not only take him into the Order, but give him the family name and treat him like a son? If anyone had all these years acted like a son to Abraham Van Helsing, it was Carl. Abandoned his dream of becoming a renowned doctor to instead be the main weapons developer for the Order, while his brother had gone back to London and taken over that ridiculous sanitarium. And yet, Van Helsing was the one who got most, if not all of, the credit.

The man was arrogant, to be sure. Granted, he did have a perfect record in completing his missions, something no other field agent of the Templar could boast, and he was almost superhuman in his abilities and skills. By God, he'd even had to clean up the leftovers of other agents' failed assignments for various reasons. Perhaps, now that Carl thought about it, arrogance wasn't what Van Helsing displayed. Maybe it was more a burden, and yet he still showed little signs of it. Any other man would take every chance he could get to make his plight known, but Van Helsing rarely did. It was as if, deep down, he knew why he carried the weight he had on his shoulders.

Soon enough, the man had returned, and gave Van Helsing directions to a stable house where they could purchase a coach into Walachia. Sadly, when he and Carl got there, no one still would take the job of driving them to Tirgoviste. The farthest anyone would take them was to Varna, which was in the outskirts of the region. From there, they would have to arrange other travel, but for now, it would have to do. It would have been better to go by sea, Van Helsing reflected. Less trouble by this point.

It was in Varna that they had less difficulty, ironically. They had been able to acquire a pair of horses, strong fine stallions, and by Carl's calculations, it would only be a few days ride to Tirgoviste. If all went well that is. If they ran into a storm, there would most certainly be problems. And nature's fury was the least of their worries. After all, Walachia was crawling with enough nightmares as it was.

They rode hard through the mountains, and, at times, when letting the horses rest, Van Helsing took the chance to look out at the beauty of the Carpathians. It all seemed so familiar to him, and yet, he was sure that he'd never been here. Certainly, he'd not come to the Romanian regions in the last seven years, and the deepest he'd been into Hungary before was Buda-Pesht. _That was the Orlock incident,_ he painfully remembered. Three men dead, one of them his best friend, Quincy Morris, and the professor's left leg run through with a nasty serrated pike. It was only by sheer luck, and Quincy's selfless sacrifice, that Van Helsing had delayed Orlock long enough for the professor to burn his coffin so that they could force the vampire into the sunlight. Now, there was a memorial to Quincy in the basilica, and the professor was bound to that damnable cane.

"God rest your soul," he whispered, looking up at the sky. They had perhaps only a few hours of sunlight left, and soon enough, they would have to make camp for the night. Van Helsing hoped in his heart that his old friend was watching over them from above. If the professor was right, and Orlock was only a fledgling compared to Dracula, they were going to need all the help from Heaven that they could get.

* * *

A few days later, they arrived in Tirgoviste. As they rode into the city, Van Helsing made sure that the brim of his hat was down to cover his eyes. He glanced to Carl, now remembering that Seward didn't carry much of the same accessories of clothing that he did. The hood of his cloak served the same purpose, doing just as well. Besides giving them some anonymity, the cover helped the men keep warm. There was a chill in the air, and a light dusting of snow on the ground.

Tirgoviste was a large city, once the court of the Walachian princes. Nothing near the size of Varna, but then again, Varna was a bustling trade center, not a former city of court out in what was now the middle of nowhere. In the center of the town were a number of stone buildings that were one to two stories high, and a few even reach three stories. Like much of the surrounding land, this town appeared to have gone unchanged for years, decades even.

It was the people that worried Van Helsing though, as he and Carl dismounted their horses. They looked positively vicious, all staring at him and his companion. He hoped that there wouldn't be trouble from the townfolk; he was here to help these people. As it stood, he was certain that Dracula would be enough of a challenge, especially if he was indeed that much greater than Orlock.

As they moved through the crowd, Carl glanced about, but then began trying to have some kind of conversation with Van Helsing. "I've known you for seven years now," he began. "Is there anything you can remember from before then?"

"Not now, Carl."

Undeterred, Carl pressed on. "Surely, you must remember something."

There was a look of pure seriousness on Van Helsing's face. "I remember fighting the Turks in Constantinople," he replied, voice devoid of any kind of sarcasm or humor.

He didn't have to look at Carl's face to see the shock there. If not for the vividness of the visions, he'd not believe it himself. "But that was in the fourteen-fifties!"

"Well, you asked."

Carl fell silent. At the least, Van Helsing knew that he had convinced the man to avoid asking questions about the past he didn't even know himself. It was then he looked to see Carl nervously watching the townfolk as they gave the two men suspicious glares. If Seward had been quiet, he might have been able to notice the reception faster. Not the first time he'd dealt this this kind of welcome. While Carl alone wouldn't raise much suspicion, the way Van Helsing was dressed most likely was what caused the commotion. He dressed as best possible to hide his features _and_ his equipment. Van Helsing was also questioning the wisdom in having brought Carl along. He'd already proved a distraction, to himself, and to Van Helsing. It was a distraction he could not afford. The decision had largely been based on instinct, which in the past had served Van Helsing well, but now, he wasn't so sure it had been a smart idea.

"Remind me," the man finally said, trying to bring his own awkward nervousness down. "Why is it so important we kill this Dracula?"

Van Helsing sighed and reached up to tilt his hat down a bit more. "Because he's the son of the Devil," he replied, then paused in his thoughts. _Yes, because Dracu means 'Devil'_. And yet, he wasn't sure how he knew that. Some tidbit of Romanian he must have recalled.

"I mean besides that."

"Because anything created by him or sired by him will also die."

"I mean besides that."

It was then that Van Helsing decided to ignore the comment. Killing Dracula would not only destroy a great threat to the world, but it might also give him some peace, and a great deal of answers, if he was lucky. Certainly, destroying sure an evil would make the cardinal happy; it would be a grand victory in the Church's cause. That single act would destroy more real monsters and genuine evils than could be imagined, and possibly lift some of the weight from Van Helsing's own heart.

A tall man appeared in front of them. Dress in ragged black attire and wearing a top hat, he had rough stringy blonde hair that draped down his head. He was unusually pale and gaunt, with deep set sunken eyes and exaggerated cheekbones that gave him the appearance of a living skeleton. There was something odd as well more so about his eyes; they were large and manic, bearing a sinister gleam in them. To Van Helsing, he looked to be the local undertaker, and from that grin, he apparently took a touch too much pleasure in his work.

"Welcome," he stated in broken English as they passed by, his Romanian accent strong, "to Tirgoviste." The menace in his voice was clear.

Immediately, Van Helsing was on guard. He knew what would come next; he had certainly seen it enough times. The inhabitants quickly surrounded them, now holding whatever could be used as a weapon. There was a grunt of disappointment, and as he and Carl came to a halt before the well in the center of the city square, Van Helsing set the bag slung over his shoulder onto the ground. The crossbow inside gave a _clang_, but fortunately, Carl was carrying all the fragile equipment in his bag. He set his hands on his waist and sighed while turning back to look over the crowd.

He could hear the change of rhythm in Carl's breathing, but still, the man was remarkable calm compared to how bad it could be for him. All the better, perhaps Seward's first taste of the field wouldn't be such a horrible shock as Van Helsing had feared. "Is it always like this?" Carl asked while moving his eyes over the crowd.

"Pretty much," he replied. Scanning the mob, Van Helsing ran the situation through his mind. It was just like any other such confrontation; the mob mentality was childish, unable to truly direct itself without a leader. And once that leader was down, the mob was no threat. He guessed that the man in the top hat was the obvious leader of this crowd. He would quickly be rendered powerless. But something else tugged at Van Helsing's mind. While he certainly could take on this whole crowd by himself and come out on top, he couldn't do so and protect Carl at the same time.

Something was wrong. The crowd was standing there, hesitating as if waiting for orders. This was not at all like any mob scene he'd been in before. Was the man with the top hat not their leader? Or maybe...

He heard footsteps from behind them. "Turn around," a strong male voice ordered. The English was very good, and the accent soft, not curling on the letters like that of the man in the top hat. Van Helsing gave a dry smile as his mind informed him that he'd just found the real leader of this crowd.

As ordered, he and Carl turned back to face whomever stood upon the waist high stone wall around the well. Van Helsing looked upwards, but only enough so that he could see the person in charge here. His hat, he made sure, was still covering his face.

Standing there, upon the wall, was a man dressed in rich clothing. A black velvet overcoat with silver threading on the button loops, the shoulders were covered by red velvet flaps while the collar appeared to be made of gold. Under that coat were black pants and a black silk shirt with golden buttons, and his belt had a golden buckle that looked to be in the design of the sun with a cross upon it. Pale blonde hair came down over his back to the bottom of his shoulder blades, and flowed as well over the front of his shoulders.

His bright blue eyes, like the winter sky, shined with great intelligence. There was such a royal air about this man that it was no surprise the people of Tirgoviste looked to him as their leader. Something else though. He resembled someone, someone Van Helsing had seen but not met. Was he one of the Valerious? Possibly a Corvinus...but the professor had said that Anastasia was the last of that family.

The man gave the two a wary look. "Let me see your faces." It was an order, not a request. Van Helsing had never been good at taking orders.

"Why?" he asked.

The answer was obvious, but the man said it anyway. "Because we don't trust strangers."

_I don't blame you,_ Van Helsing reflected. He then noticed that the man in the top hat was measuring Carl. He _was_ the undertaker.

"Strangers don't last long around here," he remarked, finishing his measurements. "One and seven meters." He grinned, then moved to measure Van Helsing, but just as he took that first step, he froze, then backed away, almost as if terrified.

_With good reason,_ he thought while looking back momentarily at the crowd. Still, it was a maxim he had himself. "Well, forgive me," Van Helsing said in reply. "But I don't trust anybody." He had made his counterpoint in Romanian, out of a hunch. It was the first time, in memory, he had spoken it, but from the look on the noble man's face, either he had screwed up completely, or he had said it perfectly.

"Wise words," the man on the wall replied in the same language. Good, it was the latter case. "However, you will be disarmed."

Alarms when off in his head. This man was no fool, he knew exactly what he was doing. Van Helsing, on instinct, reached to his back, gripping his revolvers. "Like hell I will be," he snapped, now speaking in English again. He looked around, and the crowd had backed away a step. Inwardly, then, he breathed with relief.

"You refuse to obey our laws?" the man on the well asked. His brow was raised, piqued with curiosity.

He smiled wryly. "The laws of men," Van Helsing stated, "mean little to me."

The man laughed. He truly seemed amused by this situation. "But the laws of God are a different matter, I assume?" he said. He could see the defiant answer in Van Helsing's eyes, and knew that he had guessed right. "My name is Adrian Tepes, I look after the people of Tirgoviste." He paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "Why, gentlemen, are you here?"

He relaxed. Maybe this would work out after all. But his mind was still irked by something. The name Tepes, he had heard it before. But where, that was the mystery. However, there were more important things right now to deal with. "I'm here to help you," he said.

"Indeed?" Adrian gave a humored smile, as if he didn't believe it. "You've wasted your time, we don't need your help."

Even as he said that, Van Helsing saw something moving from behind the noble, something large, and there was more than one. "Oh really?" he quipped, then dropped down like a blur and pulled the crossbow from his bag. A flick of the switch, and the bow-sides sprung out into place just as he aimed.

Adrian's eyes went wide, but he realized that the man in black wasn't aiming at him; he was aiming _behind_ him. With a grunt, he fluidly dropped down, giving Van Helsing a clear view of the three giant white bats that flew down toward them. They were each the size of a man...or rather, the size of a woman. Looking hard, Van Helsing could see distinctively female features on the creature. They each had a wingspan of twenty feet, and nasty looking claws at the end of their powerful looking limbs.

He pulled the trigger while trying to remember everything he'd read on the way up on the train, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing in his mission details mentioned that vampires could take on demonic forms! Bats, yes, wolves, to be sure, and most certainly mist, but this was _not_ in his briefing notes. Nothing had been there to warn him of this kind of situation. If these were just his servants, then Professor Van Helsing was right; facing Dracula himself would be even worse than the battle with Orlock.

Three arrows shot off in rapid succession. True to his word, Carl's invention launched the bolts at incredible speed with amazing accuracy, but the three vampire creatures were moving too fast to be targeted properly and easily dodged the arrows.

Adrian was still atop the well, but he was a man with that aura of command about him, an air of calm and order. "Everybody inside!" his voice boomed. Van Helsing glanced but a moment to the noble; he had charisma, that was for sure. Adrian was standing higher, more vulnerable than anyone else in the square. He was either foolish, or knew well what he was doing. Regardless, the level of his ability to take charge was amazing.

Van Helsing grunted, trying to choose his targets carefully and lead them to compensate for their speed, but the creatures were too quick, too agile. All he seemed to be doing was amuse them with his efforts. Suddenly, he saw one of them headed for Adrian, diving at the man. "Tepes!"

He already saw it coming without looking. Adrian dove off of his perch, hit the ground with a roll, and reached to his side to draw out a sword with a gold encrusted silver blade. As one of the vampires came about to dive at him again, he raised his hand, and a red glow built up in his palm. "Return to Hell," he hissed, launching a ball of fire toward the undead being. The vampire bride gasped and twisted about, barely dodging the burst of flame.

Carl rubbed his eyes. Had he just seen that? He wasn't quite sure with all the panic, but he could have sworn he just saw the man called Adrian release a fireball from his hand. Who was he? A warlock, someone skilled in sorcery? Was he too a threat? No, he wasn't, he couldn't be. These people did not fear Adrian, they sincerely trusted him, respected him, there had to be good reason.

Too busy to have noticed, Van Helsing continued firing, then heard a grinding as the bolt cartridge of the crossbow slammed to a stop, now empty. "Carl!" he cried, detaching the empty stock piece. "Carl, it's not working!"

He looked over and sprang into action, pulling a spare clip from his bag. "I knew I should have brought silver bolts," Carl muttered to himself just as he threw the cartridge to Van Helsing. "Try aiming for their hearts!"

Catching the clip, Van Helsing saw the dark haired bride dive for him, and he didn't have time to lock in the bolts right now. He ran, looking for cover, then dove to the ground just as the vampire sailed overhead and caught a hapless cow in its grip. He could hear her frustration, and looked up to see the creature throw the cow into the balcony of one of the two story buildings. He was lucky, and Van Helsing took that chance to lock in the cartridge and arm himself again.

Leaping to his feet, Van Helsing turned to see Adrian fleeing from a pair of the vampires. Why were they focusing on him? Granted, Adrian was the leader in this city, but why such attention to him? Wouldn't their target, if she were here, be the child Anastasia Corvinus?

He shoved the questions from his mind and flipped the arming switch, then aimed and pulled the trigger to unleash a storm of arrow bolts. The arrows ripped through the air, tearing into storefronts, and for a moment, Van Helsing realized he might accidentally hit the man who could help him in his task. But Adrian seemed quite skilled at dodging the flying objects. And then, just as one of the brides almost caught him, Van Helsing had to blink. He couldn't have seen what he thought he saw; it appeared as if Adrian had vanished into a cloud of mist. Surely it was dust and snow that kicked up from the vampire's wings, for when the two brides pulled up and away, Adrian appeared from behind a pile of crates.

A silence fell over the city. The vampires had vanished. It seemed brighter all of a sudden, and then, Van Helsing looked to the sky, realizing what was the cause of the momentary peace; the sun was out, unfettered by the clouds. Adrian gave a sigh of relief, then snapped to alert when the sound of splashing came from the well. He looked to Van Helsing, nodded, and readied his sword. Both men approached the well, and, after a moment of hesitation, looked down into the depth, Van Helsing aiming his crossbow.

Nothing moved. Adrian, however, was untouched by relief. His eyes warily looked down into the well, as if he could see through the darkness. "Marishka," he whispered. "I know you're down there."

"Van Helsing," Carl said while looking at the sky to keep an eye on the cloud cover. "We have a prob-"

He was cut off when, as the sun was blocked off by the clouds, the bride named Marishka came screaming out of the well. She slammed into Adrian, causing him to drop his sword, then caught him by the right arm and flew off. Van Helsing was quick to recover and aim, but he couldn't fire without risking harm to Adrian. It was then he noticed the vampire's first mistake; it hadn't killed Adrian the first chance it had.

Adrian as well recognized Marishka's mistake. He growled low, tensing his hand as it transformed to now bare a set of claws, and swiped hard to cut into the bride's legs. Marishka screamed out and let go of him, and Adrian prepared to hit the ground, but Verona quickly swooped down and caught him, this time by the legs. It seemed that she learned from the mistakes of her sister.

"Do you like to fly, _Alucard_!" she hissed to the man. The insult in her words was clear, and Adrian's face was distorted by disgust and anger; he did _not_ appreciate that name.

Verona laughed, then realized that her prey felt lighter; Adrian was gone. "What?" came her angry cry as she looked down just in time to see the man perform an almost impossible feat of acrobatics and land on his feet without any sign of injury.

From Van Helsing's point of view, what he was witnessing shouldn't be happening. Adrian couldn't be doing the incredible feats he appeared to have preformed. The look of mist was explainable; dust and snow from the force of the brides' wings. But having injured one bride without a weapon, and escaping the strong claws of another was more than he his mind could rationalize.

"Van Helsing!" Carl cried, bringing the Vatican's top agent out of his thoughts. "Two 'o clock!"

He turned and brought up the crossbow; the blonde bride, Marishka, was headed right for him. His finger squeeze the trigger, holding it down as six bolts fired out in tandem and slammed into the vampire. Van Helsing didn't let up, however. Turning just as fast as she flew over him, he continued to launch arrows into her body, until she slammed through the roof of a building. Only then did he release the trigger and sigh with relief. "That's one," he whispered, hoping that he had killed the undead beast, but he dared not give in to illusions quite yet.

* * *

Adrian breathed heavily as he slammed the door shut behind him and threw the bolt. He had managed to grab his sword from the ground, but right now, he needed to develop a plan. He hadn't expected Dracula's brides to attack now, not in the daytime. It was a horrible risk to them, for even a single ray of sunlight would cause wounds that could take them weeks to heal.

He stepped back, catching his breath, then turned to come face to face with the red-headed bride, Aleera. She hissed at him, hanging from the ceiling before crawling aside and dropping to the floor with a fluid transformation to her human form. Now, she was a stunningly beautiful young woman dressed in revealing white robes, well endowed in her physical form, and she gave Adrian a lustful eye. "Greetings, Lord Alucard."

There, again, these woman referred to him by a title he loathed. "Nice to see you too, Aleera," he returned, now playing the part of a polite nobleman. He almost reached for his sword, but right now, he needed to plan, and Aleera was making no attempt to attack him as of yet. "Have I done some wrong to you this last lifetime?"

"Don't play coy with me, princeling," she stated coolly, almost with a seductive purr in her voice. Adrian knew well why she was stalking him like this; desire. It wasn't enough that she had Dracula's attentions, she wanted to rekindle other affairs. "I know what lurks in your lusting heart."

_So you think,_ Adrian reflected. "I hope you have a heart in there," he instead replied, slowly moving his left hand to grip the handle of his sword. "Because one day soon, I'll drive my blade through it!"

She back-handed him furiously, something that was so quick, it caught Adrian off-guard. However, it worked out to his advantage, and he crashed through a window and landed outside on the ground. Battling Aleera would wait for another time, he had to make sure the people of the city survived the attack.

* * *

With Carl behind him, Van Helsing readied his crossbow and slowly stepped toward the building that the creature Marishka had crashed through. The inventor was remarkable calm, a testament, perhaps, to the professor's training. The people who lived here in Tirgoviste had been dealing with these monsters all their lives, and yet they still panicked at the first sign of the vampires. Carl, however, had remained at Van Helsing's side through this hole ordeal. Maybe his instincts had not been wrong about bringing Carl along. After all, he'd already proven himself to be much of a resource.

As he closed in on the building, Van Helsing could hear a low growling, like a vicious beast. _The vampire_, he realized, his hopes that the successful blows before had done her in now burst. If such an assault as the one he'd delivered had not killed the bride, then he make no illusions about beating all _three_ of the creatures this day. One would be enough of a handful.

The front door suddenly exploded open, and Marishka came out screaming through the air, slamming into his body to send Van Helsing flying back to the ground. He groaned, a pain in his left side, but he ignored that when he noticed that the crossbow had been knocked from his hands, and now lay on the ground a few dozen meters away.

The vampire swooped about in the air, pulling out the remaining crossbow bolts from her body one by one, tossing them aside. She landed upon the railing of a balcony, where she transformed into her human guise. Now, instead of a horrific bat demon, she was a beautiful blonde woman, whose white robes barely covered much of her body. There, she teasingly held the last bolt while the wounds on her abdomen healed, leaving not a mark. Marishka then threw it away, and glanced down to Van Helsing.

Carl took the initiative and reached into his bag to produce a steel and glass flask, one that Van Helsing recognized. "Holy water!" he cried just before throwing the flask through the air toward Van Helsing. Verona, the dark-haired bride, swooped down and intercepted the flask before it could reach the man, then hissed and threw it violently into the well, where the glass portions shattered and spilled out the contents down into depths of the well. So much for that solution.

"Stop your teasing, Marishka!" the still bat-form bride growled to her sister. She brought a hand to her neck and made a slashing motion. "Finish him off!"

It was over. The crossbow was too far away for him to reach in time, and Van Helsing knew it. He could see the lustful glare in Marishka's eyes, lust for his blood, and even as he made a run for his weapon, she leapt off the balcony with a scream, shifting back into her winged form. There was a hiss, and then, suddenly, a bassful voice that cried out. The aura of command was unmistakable; it was Adrian.

"_Sol Invictus!_" the voice cried out, and a ray of sunlight burst through the clouds to focus directly on Marishka. She screamed out as the light of the sun burned into her skin, causing her to sail over Van Helsing as he dove to the ground and crash hard against the earth. She was out of the sun now, but her body was still smoking profusely, and the bride was in terrible pain.

This was his chance, he knew it. Van Helsing scrambled to his feet and pulled out a wooden stake from his coat as he raced toward Marishka, then leapt forward and drove it into her heart while he had the chance. Her screams intensified in the pain they reflected, and Van Helsing quickly backed away. A pair of wails echoed out, and he looked up to see the remaining two brides sailing up into the air and racing away. _That's one,_ he thought, knowing now that it was no illusion.

Marishka clawed at the stake, but her hands were far too burned to be of any use, and her body began to ripple and bubble. Painfully, she reverted to her human form, and her screams continued until, at last, she disintegrated into a pile of ash, nothing left of her or her clothing.

Van Helsing breathed in deep and whispered a prayer while signing the cross. His fears about the vampires had been proven, but they were not invincible, he knew that now. With a sigh, he picked up his crossbow and walked to the steps of the city church, where he turned and sat down. He was tired, and hungry.

After a moment of staring in amazement, Carl walked toward his partner, picking up Van Helsing's hat from the ground and dusting it off before handing it to him. A hush came over the city square while the towns people realized that it was over. Then, they came out, and Carl could hear murmuring. There was a problem though; it wasn't amazement or admiration in those voices; it was anger. This was not good.

"He killed a bride!" one voice cried out.

"He killed a vampire!" came another.

The people were crowding around them again, trapping Van Helsing and Carl in the stairwell of the church. This didn't make sense, why were the people upset at having been saved? "Isn't that a _good_ thing?" Carl asked of them, his voice steady and almost sarcastic.

The undertaker appeared atop the well wall. Van Helsing glanced over, then noted something; the undertaker had been nowhere in sight after the sun had first come out, yet Van Helsing has seen him in the crowds clearly just before then. In fact, he'd been most calm during the attack up until that point. It wasn't until now he had reappeared.

"Vampires only kill what they need to survive," the man stated from his perch. He had the most detestable grin on his mouth. "One, or two people a month. Now...they kill for _revenge._"

_And your business booms,_ Van Helsing thought. He didn't like the undertaker, right from the moment he'd seen him. No doubt, Dracula's activities gave the man much work, and as well, much joy in that he had a boom of business.

"Is it always like this?"

The laugh came naturally. "Pretty much," he replied. Carl caught on quick, Van Helsing to admit that. He gripped the crossbow tightly, but hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight with these people. He'd never yet killed an innocent, and while he of course had no desire to start, it looked almost unavoidable here. He didn't like it one bit.

"So what name, my good sir, do I carve on your gravestone?" The undertaker again grinned, apparently anticipating work, and the chance perhaps to go through the belongings of these two strangers.

"His name," came Adrian's voice once more, "is Van Helsing."

There was a new roil of voices, but now it was different. It was nothing like the ones he'd heard in Ireland a month ago, it was something he'd long been waiting to hear; admiration. Less than an hour after meeting the locals, and Van Helsing decided already that he liked Tirgoviste much more than Dublin.

People made way as Adrian walked toward the agents of the Templar. There was now a smile on his face, one that showed his own respect for the man in black before him. "Your reputation proceeds you," he stated in a light tone of friendship. "Not as much as the professor's, but Richter spoke highly of you." There was a pause, and pain was clear in Adrian's eyes. "Before he was killed at least."

It was true then. Van Helsing had been warned that the worst may have happened to Richter, but he had hoped otherwise. It seemed that Adrian was the bearer of the bad news. Van Helsing made a mental note to send news to the Vatican and inform Abraham. But that was for later, and Van Helsing knew that Adrian was focusing on the victories, not the losses.

The nobleman turned to his people and smiled. Now they realized that it was no mistake that the vampire was dead; it was the aid they desperately needed. "He's the first mortal to kill a bride of Dracula!" he cried out. The people cheered out. Carl made a sour face, noting that _now_ they rejoiced. Adrian, however, gave Van Helsing an appraising look and patted the man on the shoulder. "I'd say that's earned him a drink."

* * *

He felt her die. He felt her pain, her anger, and then, the connection was severed. But it was enough. He knew what she had felt in those last moments of her undeath, before a stake had been driven through her heart. No, not just stake. The sun that burned her as well. He made sure after that first slip that the sun would be blocked off, it should not have shined down on her. Such was no doubt the work of that accursed Adrian.

The heat of his fury melted the ice which served as a lid for his coffin, and the weakened remains of that shell shattered away as he rose up from his rest, now standing on the rim of the coffin. "_Marishkaaa!_" he cried in agony, his voice echoing throughout the icy tomb of a castle. For a moment, he stood there, and then he floated to the ground, his expression one of rage.

Dracula was not happy with this turn of events.

He looked upwards, to where his remaining brides, Verona and Aleera, stood upon the ceiling, upside down. "If it's not the Christians," he hissed, now walking toward the wall. "It's the damn Moors! Why can't they just leave us alone!"

As he passed the ancient candelabra, the candles mounted there ignited with just a glance. Dracula growled, his fury clear, and the source of it was obvious. That one of his brides had been killed, yes, that was enough to enrage the count, but for her to be killed by a mortal...that was the grave insult. It was an outrage, a challenge upon his rightful reign over Walachia.

He pressed his foot against the wall pillar, now walking up the pillar toward the ceiling. "We never kill more than our fill, and less than our share," Dracula continued, moving upwards along the column that stretched over two hundred feet to the ceiling. "Can they say the same!" He paused his words, now focusing his mind on other matters; the reason he had sent his brides to Tirgoviste. "Did I not stress how important it is that we be rid of these Corvinus!" He came to the ceiling and rotated to stand upside down as he now walked along. "And you!" Dracula hissed, glaring at Aleera. "I told you to _kill_ Alucard, not go chasing after him like some love-sick bitch in heat!"

Aleera shied away, but Verona moved to defend her sister. "We lost Marishka!" she cried. "How can you blame us when it is the fault of _your_ spawn!"

For a moment, he almost lost control of his anger, almost struck Verona. But then, he calmed himself. It would not do to abuse his prized minions. Besides, they had suffered enough, Dracula could see that. "There, there," he intoned, gesturing for the two vampires to cheer up. "Do not worry. I already have found another bride to take her place."

"_What!_" Aleera screamed. The jealousy in her face was all too plain, though Verona did not attack her for it, being she too felt it. "Do we mean so little to you!" she said, the angry words of jealous rage expressing her horror. "So easily replaced!"

Verona joined her sister in her words. "Have you no heart!"

"No!" Dracula proclaimed to his brides. His voice echoed through the castle once more. "I have no heart, I cannot feel love, not since those ignorant and stupid humans killed my Lisa!" He roared, releasing his grip on the ceiling and dropping down in a flip to the ground where he landed perfectly. "I feel no joy," the vampire lord continued. "No fear...only anger, sorrow." He smiled at that moment as he reflected. "But, I have passion, and in that, you, my brides, serve well...for I will live forever."

Almost crying, Aleera fought the urge to. It would spill precious blood if she shed tears. "My lord," the vampire crooned, hoping to bring him back to her. "It is not so bad."

Again, Dracula laughed. He could not feel love, true, but he did feel the lusts of passion. And as he had said, his brides served well in that regard. He looked up to the balconies where an army of creatures waited for his command. Dwerger, squat and stocky, but industrious and positively vicious. They were a race of trolls, known in the human lore, but they were living, some of the few mortal creatures that Dracula found to be of use.

"I am at war with the world!" he bellowed, walking down the hallway while looking to his army. "And every living soul in it! And soon, the final battle will begin!" Dracula smiled now as he paused. Something piqued in his mind about the incident in Tirgoviste. _The Stranger._ Yes, that new arrival, the man in black. It was he who had given Adrian Tepes the inclination to cause such harm to Marishka. "I must go and find out who our new visitor is," he said, turning then as a powerful roar bellowed out from behind a corner. Dracula turned to see the shadow of a werewolf cast upon the wall, struggling against his bonds. He smiled and raised his hand up in the gesture of squishing a bug. "We will have to make a little...aperitif out of him!" the vampire remarked in amusement. It was then that his expression when dead serious. "We're far too close to success to be interrupted now."

There was a cry of horror from his brides as they swooped down and landed upon the floor. "No!" Aleera said softly. She stepped toward Dracula with a begging look in her eyes. "Please, say you will not try again."

"My heart," Verona added as she moved a step behind her sister, "could not bear the sorrow if we should fail again."

Yes, he knew their pain, but it should not be so great as they expressed. With a roar, Dracula swung at his brides, finally giving into his un-natural rage. They were quick to back away, now whimpering in sorrow against the pillars. Just as swiftly, he regained his composure, now opening his arms to his vampire brides. No, they had suffered enough through all this, it would not do to punish them further. "Do not fear me," he whispered, and they came to his embrace, practically purring in his arms. "Everyone else fears me...but not my brides."

There was the sound of an electric discharge, and the werewolf howled in pain. Dracula looked over to the shadows and noticed that of a hunched-over man jamming a long pole into the beast. "Igor!" he yelled, which resulted in the disfigured man scurrying out to meet him. He was holding a ten foot cattle-prod in his hands, the source of that sound.

The vampire gestured toward the werewolf. "Why do you torment that thing so?"

Igor hesitated for a moment. "It's what I do, Master," he replied.

"Come, come, Igor," Dracula stated in an almost lecturing tone. "Do unto others."

Igor nodded in agreement. "Before _they_ do unto _me_," he finished, giving a grin while bowing as best he could. "Master..."

A smile danced on Dracula's lips. He could not be angry with his human servant, not when he knew his lessons so well. Yes, even the mortals had their uses beyond food, and Igor's role in his plans was a vital one. "Now go," he intoned, then looked up toward the Dwergi. His meaning was clear to them all. "To Castle Frankenstein!"

Igor bowed and departed, the Dwergi doing the same. Dracula and his brides, however, floated over the ground toward an alcove, the two women fawning over their master. "Yes, yes," Aleera cooed, offering no resistance to Dracula's orders. "We will try again."


	8. Chapter 7

Looming over Tirgoviste, Adrian's manor was nestled snuggly in the crags of the Balkan mountains. It was one of the oldest housings in the area, obvious from how much rest of the city seemed to build forth from it, but it didn't look to have aged much. Clearly, the family had been here for a long time.

Adrian led Van Helsing and Carl through the main doors, nodding to a corner in indication that they could leave their bags there. "I apologize for the lack of my house staff," he said, voice now devoid of that bassful command it had been in the city square. "But I gave them leave for a holiday some time ago, and not all of them have yet returned." He paused for a moment. "I don't blame them at all."

"We have quite a few issues at hand," Van Helsing stated while setting his bag down roughly, which resulting in the crossbow giving yet another resound _clang_. Carl, of course, was more careful in setting aside his bags. When the man glared at him, Van Helsing ignored it. Instead, he kept his attention on Adrian. "One of which is the location and well-being of Anastasia Corvinus. The second is where I can find Dracula."

There was a fanciful look on Adrian's eyes at that, almost as if he had expected the inquiry. "You needn't worry about Lady Anna," he said. Now, Adrian gestured to the stairs, walking up them to the second floor of his manor. "I have already taken care of her safety and made sure that Dracula cannot take her."

"Take her?"

As they reached the top of the stairs, Adrian paused, looked back, and nodded to his guests. "Dracula seems intent on taking Anna alive. Of yet, I'm unsure as to why." He continued walking now headed for a rounded set of double doors. "However, so long as she is safe from his grip, I am content to ponder that at a later time. Right now, we should introduce you to the lady."

He pulled open the doors to reveal a massive house library. Upon the walls were racks of books, volumes upon volumes of information that made Carl's eyes light up with envy. It was not missed by Van Helsing; Carl looked like he had been granted an entry into Heaven. "Try not to die of shock on me," he muttered to the man. Van Helsing followed Adrian into the library, and it was then he noticed a huge oil painting that covered an entire wall of the room. It was a richly detailed and fantastical map of Walachia, the work of both a master mapmaker and a grand artist.

"As to Dracula himself," Adrian continued as he led the men down the main walkway of the library, "he once resided in this very house, before he became one of the undead. Now, no one knows where he dwells." He sighed, looking to the map for a moment. "Richter and Nicholas would spend hours staring at that painting, trying to find the location of Dracula's lair."

Turning a corner, Adrian stopped, looking around. He had an odd expression on his face, and then smiled. "Lady Anna," he called. "Come on down, I have someone who would like to meet you."

For a moment, there was no answer. Then, from a nearby shelf-ladder, a young girl attired in a simple red dress climbed down, a book in her hand. She hopped from the last rung to the floor, then held the book over her front with both hands under it. Auburn hair that was held by a light blue ribbon, and eyes that looked like the sea, she had a quiet look to her, yet still a noble bearing to her features. Van Helsing recognized her as the girl from the picture in his briefing; Lady Anastasia Maria Corvinus.

"Anna," Adrian said, now gesturing to Van Helsing and Carl for her. "These gentlemen are Van Helsing and Carlson Seward. They'll be staying with us for some time."

She bowed, ever so polite in her motions and displaying her royal breeding. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sirs," Anna said, her voice soft and tender. She looked even younger in the flesh than in the photograph, yet she conveyed an amazing air of maturity beyond her years. Truly a remarkable child, and the member of a long line of royal blood. "I apologize for my less-than presentable appearance, I was not expecting such company."

Van Helsing smiled, his eyes reflecting his amusement. Yes, she was very well mannered for such a young age. He had judged her before to be almost to her twenties, but now, having met her, she was obviously much younger, no more than fifteen, sixteen at oldest. "No apologizes are required of you," he stated, removing his hat and giving her a bow. "Indeed, it is I who must apologize to you for _my_ less-than proper appearance for presenting myself to a lovely young lady of a royal house." Van Helsing chuckled when he saw her giggle. "I'm afraid I've not yet had the chance to clean myself up after the event down in the city square."

Her eyes glassed over with fear. Van Helsing inwardly cursed himself for having caused such a reaction. She'd obviously been unaware of the attack in the city, and to have brought that fear to her was a foolish move. Already, he was screwing up.

"The brides," she whispered. "Lord Tepes, how many-"

He held up his hand to calm her. The effect Adrian had on people still amazed Van Helsing, though, from what he had seen in the battle, Adrian's ability to produce such a presence was far from the greatest of his talents. "More injuries than actual losses for the city," he stated. Those words seemed to levy Anna's anxiety. "Van Helsing is the reason we were so fortunate. In fact..." He paused a moment, now glancing to the man in black. "If not for him, Marishka would still be one preying on the mortal lives."

There was a sparkle in Anna's eyes, a sparkle of hope. She turned to Van Helsing with something that both lifted his spirits and made him worried. He'd not seen it often in regards to himself, but he knew that look; hero worship. "You killed a bride?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement. "Did you actually kill a bride of Dracula?"

For a moment, Van Helsing considered denying the full credit, being he knew that somehow Adrian had a hand in that victory. But one look to the man, and Van Helsing got he idea he should play along. "Yes," he said. With a sigh and a smile, he nodded to confirm her question. "Yes I did. But it was only luck that I got the chance I had. The sun came out at a rather auspicious time, so it seems that God was looking out for us then." Van Helsing glanced to Adrian for a moment. Just how much truth in those words, he did wonder. "I don't expect to have such a similar break in fortune the next time."

"Try not to break down too many illusions," came the words from Adrian. He smiled again, and Van Helsing could see that Anna's presence was one that definitely lifted the mood, especially of Lord Tepes. He seemed more cheerful now that he was in her company, almost like an older brother of sorts. Perhaps his initial supposition of Adrian having some blood relation to the Corvinus clan was correct.

Taking another bow, Van Helsing then had a serious expression upon his face. He hated to do this now, but better sooner than later. "Lord Tepes..."

"Please," he replied, waving his right hand as if to ward away his title. "You were friends of Richter's, and thus are friends of mine. Titles have no use between us."

That smile could not be resisted. "Alright," Van Helsing quipped to correct himself. "Adrian then. We do have matters to attend to, and they involve Dracula. I'm not sure that such a discussion is one which should involve our young lady."

He did it again, said the wrong thing. He knew because there was instantly a look of indignation on Anna's face. Adrian was quick to hold her shoulder before she could move to respond, but Van Helsing got the idea; he had offended her. _Best try and apologize for it,_ he thought. _She's royalty, after all, and you're not._ "Forgive me," he said, looking quite sheepish now. "I meant not to say that it is not your concern, it's just that, your age causes some automatic reactions when dealing with these matters."

For a moment, pride was on Anna's face. Defiant pride. The true sign of not only royalty, but a teenager. He would have to keep that in mind next time. However, the expression softened, and Anna nodded to accept his apology. Hopefully, he'd not accidentally say something like that again.

"We can discuss this in the armory," Adrian said at last. He held out his hand to show the way, then took the lead in walking back down through the library doors and to a chamber that lay on the bottom floor. As Adrian pushed the doors open, Van Helsing looked around at four centuries of weapons that lined not just the walls, but tables as well. Most of the weapons here he recognized, some from his own experience, a few from books he'd read, and there were a rare number he'd not seen before. With a gaze to Carl, he could see the man was about to start drooling.

_Now_ he was impressed.

Stepping up to one of few empty tables in the room, Adrian gestured for everyone to sit before he took his own seat. "As said before," he began. "I thank you for coming to Tirgoviste to help us. I was unsure if my message reached the Templar."

It clicked now. "You're the Templar's contact here in Walachia," Carl exclaimed, giving voice to what had formed in Van Helsing's own mind.

A nod. Adrian smiled faintly. "Guilty as charged," he said in humor. "Yes, I have been one of the Templar's contacts here in the Hungarian provinces, but I've been absent as of the last few years, and only returned about a year ago, after Richter had been murdered by Dracula." He paused a moment, looking to Van Helsing and Carl, then to Anna. "I was only able to recently send my correspondence to the Vatican due to my own responsibilities to the people here. As a member of both the Tepes and Corvinus bloodlines, my duty to Walachia is double."

So he was a Corvinus. Perhaps that was the resemblance he'd noticed, but there was something else, something that was still not quite within reach of Van Helsing's mind. It had to do with this Tepes family. It could wait though. "So you were expecting us."

Adrian didn't answer right away, at least not in the fashion Van Helsing expected. "I was expecting Abraham Van Helsing," he finally said in reply. "We are rather much acquainted, and that was the reason I suspected you two at first. The people of Tigoviste were expecting the professor, not his prodigal son."

"Professor Van Helsing was unable to make the journey," Carl said, saving Van Helsing the trouble. "He was injured two years ago in an incident that involved Count Orlock."

There was a troubled look on Adrian's face. Van Helsing surmised that he knew the name Orlock well enough. When the noble only nodded, he got the confirmation he needed.

"Lord Tepes," Anna intoned. She glanced outside to indicate the setting sun. "Dinner should be ready. Cordillia said she was preparing a wild roast for tonight, along with a bottle of that wine you're so fond of."

His eyes flashed but a moment. There seemed to be an odd gleam of hunger in those eyes at that moment, but it quickly passed. "How forgetful of me," Adrian remarked in apology. He rose from his seat and nodded to his guests. "Please, would you join us for supper? I'm sure that your effects have already been taken to the guest rooms, I'll show you to them later."

"Roast is it?" Van Helsing observed as he and Carl stood and followed their hosts down into the hall again. "Been a long while since I had a good dinner like that."

"Indeed," Carl added. "This wine sounds like something I'd like to sample as well."

Anna's eyes flashed to Adrian, worried, but the man calmly shook his head. "I'm afraid it is very much an, acquired taste," he said. There was a smile. "Take my word, you would not enjoy it."

* * *

Dinner, Van Helsing decided, was the best he'd ever had. The roast was large and juicy, and it tasted better than anything he'd before sampled. Maybe once he was able to give up his line of work, he'd come stay in the region for a while. The wine was also of a very good year, though it surprised both he and Carl that the bottles served them were both of a seventeenth century vintage. Obviously, the Corvinus family had very fine tastes.

Now missing his gloves, hat, and overcoat, Van Helsing looked almost nothing like the man who was the best agent to the Templar. He had tied his hair back for the meal, and while it did serve the practical purpose of keeping his hair out of his face, it also allowed him to have a more sociable appearance.

It was on his third glass of the wine that Van Helsing decided he had developed a fondness for this vintage. Strangely though, for such a strong taste, the white liquid seemed to have no effect on his senses at all, which was less than could be said for Carl, now on his _fifth_ glass, and already a bit tipsy. Van Helsing made a note to not let the man have any more of the obviously potent vintage, now making him drink water to clear out his system.

Finally, Adrian restarted the matter at hand. "As said before, we are unsure just where Dracula now resides," he began, having just swallowed a piece of roast that he washed down with the rather thick red fluid that was, as Anna had said, the vineyard he had a fondness for. He paused for a moment, glancing to the young princess, then continued. "If it were only my own head, I'd be heading out right now to track down his brides."

"A fool's errand," Van Helsing said instantly. He noticed the stare that Anna gave him, and decided to explain his reasoning. "If you were to go after them now, you would be outnumbered and outpositioned." He gestured to the night sky. "Plus, unlike them, you can't see in the dark. Morning would be better, and not alone."

The nobleman chuckled before giving his agreeing nod. "An excellent observation, Mister Van Helsing. However..." He paused, then took a sip of his drink, not a drop being spilled down his mouth. Setting the glass back on the table, Adrian continued. "However, as I'm sure you and Mister Seward observed during the battle, I'm not exactly like most men."

"I noticed the fireball you flung at the one bride," Carl interjected, now recalling his own observances. "The one with the blonde hair, Marishka I believe you called her. You also seem to know them."

A laugh escaped from Adrian's lips. He sighed, took another sip of his wine, then glanced to Seward. "Your eyes did not fool you," he stated plainly. He could sense the surprise on Van Helsing's face, but need not see it. "I am an accomplished mage of sorts, one who taps into the forces of nature to fight the evils that plague our land." He noted the growing fear in Van Helsing's eyes. "And yes, the Templar knows this. Since, however, my use of magicks is clearly not the black arts, they do not interfere with my methods."

He took a sip of his wine, his eyes now worried, but relieved all the same. "It's still a risky business," Van Helsing remarked. He set his glass on the table, then looked at it for a few moments. Something was very odd, he was feeling no effect at all from the wine's alcoholic properties. It wasn't the wine itself, Carl was proof of that. It was something to do with him.

"That it is," Adrian agreed. He noticed that the few servants of the house had come to clear the table, and he nodded his thanks to them before finishing his own glass and handing it off. He tapped on the arm of his chair for a moment, reflecting in some thought. Finally, He turned to Anna. "It's getting late," he said softly. "You should turn in for the night, so that my protections on you are reinforced."

For a moment, Anna almost objected. But then, knowing that Adrian was right, she rose and bowed her leave. "Good-night," she said. "I'll see you all in the morning."

As the princess departed, Van Helsing frowned. His instincts were warning him of something, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He glanced to Adrian. "Despite appearances, she's quite a spirited girl."

The lord nodded, now looking out the window. It was a full moon out tonight, and it made him worried. "Yes," he said. "She gets it from her mother." He smiled faintly, and Van Helsing could see the pained memories that Adrian was reliving in his mind. "Anna, sadly, never knew her, but her mother was a beautiful and strong willed woman." There was sorrow now on his face. "The family told her that her mother died from birthing complications, I thank God she doesn't know what really happened to Lucrecia."

There was that feeling that he knew where this was going, and Van Helsing had a sinking premonition that it had something to do with Dracula. "Don't tell me that-"

He nodded, and Van Helsing knew he didn't need finish the sentence. Adrian's statement was all that he and Carl needed. "She was once one of Dracula's brides." He stopped, trying to avoid tears. No doubt, it was a difficult memory. "Dracula changed her not long after Anna was born, the family decided it best for Anna not to know what happened." Pausing, Adrian took a moment to recompose himself. "I was the one who had to free her."

Hearing the sharp breath, Van Helsing jumped out of his seat and turned toward the door of the dining room in time to see Anna bolt from her hiding place. Adrian as well realized that she had been eavesdropping, cursing himself now for not noticing it before. "Oh no."

* * *

Tears poured down her cheeks as she ran toward her room. How could they have lied to her, her own family? Why did they tell her that her mother had died in labor instead of the truth? Did they think it would destroy her to know that her mother had been one of Dracula's most tortured victims, that Adrian had been the one with the courage to free her?

Her mind was made up. Princess or no, she owed Dracula far too much for the horrors he had brought upon her bloodline to let others handle the task. Granted, she didn't have much in the way of combat training, but she didn't care, she wanted vengeance.

Racing to her room, Anna pulled out a set of riding clothes and quickly changed. They were black and gray, perfect for hiding in the night. Once in her new attire, Anna stormed out of her room, now headed for the armory. No doubt, the men would try and stop her once they figured out her intent, but she would not let them.

Throwing open the armory doors, Anna halted, hearing a noise coming from in the weapons room. She picked up a glowing lantern and walked slowly around the corner to find that the source of the sound was a window that had been left open. She sighed, walking over at a brisk pace to shut the window. It was then she noticed the full moon outside, and as she turned, she could see the wet paw prints on the ground.

One of them was in there with her.

She quickly looked around and grabbed a pistol from one of the tables. She had little real experience with firearms, but enough that she might be able to get a shot off and escape. Anna's breath was erratic now; she was scared. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all, setting to go out on her own against Dracula.

She backed away slowly toward a wall. That way, she wouldn't be attacked from behind by the werewolf. The last thing she needed was for that to happen. But then, she stiffened when she heard something drip to the floor behind her. She slowly turned, then, looking up, screamed and fired up the moment she saw the werewolf gripping to the wall above her. The creature roared, but did not give chase when she ran.

And the clouds passed over to cover the full moon.

Turning a corner, Anna raced for the door, but then slammed into something. She almost screamed again, with nothing left but the inevitable, and then, she noticed it. It wasn't some_thing_ she had run into, it was some_one._

Velkan.

Joy sprang unbidden into her heart. The weeks of grief and of missing him all flooded back only to melt away. Her cousin was alive, he had survived the fall.

"Oh God," she gasped, now gripping him tightly. "Oh, thank God. Velkan, you're alive!" Anna began to cry with joy, not bothering to notice that Velkan's clothes were torn and shredded. "When you fell over that cliff-"

He suddenly sprang to life. "Anna, stop!" he hissed forcefully. "You have to listen to me, I only have a moment!"

"Velkan, we have to get out of here, there's a were-"

Again, he gestured for her to be silent. "That doesn't matter right now! I know Dracula's secret!" There was a mixture of emotion on his face, but none of it was happiness; it was panic. "He has..."

He choked. Even as he tried to get the words out, he stumbled backwards, and the only sound that came from his throat was a ragged guttural growl. Anna couldn't understand what was wrong, until, when she looked through the window, the horrible truth dawned on her; the moon was shining through the clouds.

He was flung into spasms, looking to have lost all control of his body. Throwing himself against the wall, Velkan struck against it, his hands digging deep into the stone. Anna couldn't say anything, only shaking her head in refusal to believe it. The werewolf wasn't stalking her in the room, it had only changed back to its human form for a moment with the moonlight blocked by the clouds.

"No," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Please, God...no!"

His spasms continued, Velkan Valerious thrashing about, throwing off the remains of his shirt, his skin rippling and bulging. And then, for a moment, he managed enough control to look at her, let her know that what was left of him loved her, was fighting to protect her, and he said one word; "_Run!_"

And then, he could fight it no longer. His skin split open, tearing as if there was something inside him that was too big for his flesh. His human skin tore away, revealing the werewolf inside, and the creature now scaled the wall while its transformation completed itself. Then, looking to Anna, it roared.

The doors were kicked open. "Anna!" cried a voice. The werewolf looked over, then pushed off from the wall to crash through a nearby window, shattering the glass while Van Helsing ran over, threw open the balcony door, and aimed one of his silver revolvers.

She couldn't move, even as he ran back over to her and shook her. "Anna," he said. "Are you alright?"

When the girl didn't respond, Van Helsing swore under his breath. There were no signs at all of injury to her, and he guessed that he'd been just in time. He looked over to see Carl walk in, sniffing about.

"Why in God's name does it smell like wet dog in here?"

Leave it to Carl to make that kind of light of the situation. "Werewolf," Van Helsing replied, now running to give chance. He noticed the light of understanding in Carl's eyes, and took the bullet pack the man pulled from his coat and held out. "Well done. Get Adrian, and make sure he knows we've got a werewolf running around!"

By then, Anna had recovered, and was now giving chase after him. "No!" she cried in horror. "Wait!"

But he already headed out of the house as fast as he could, not wanting to give her the chance to follow. No doubt, she wanted some part of this hunt, but he could not afford to have her as a liability right now. Unlike Carl, Anna would be not only a distraction, but someone that definitely had to be protected. No, it was best for her to stay behind.

He made for the city on foot. As he arrived, he could hear the noise of merry making from the pub. Peculiar place, Tirgoviste. Just a few hours ago, vampires had attacked the town, and now the city dwellers were living it up. It made Van Helsing wonder just how much this city had gone through.

The box of bullets was soon broken open, and he took his chance now to replace the normal shells in his guns with silver bullets. He snapped the chamber shut, then glanced up as he heard something in the distance. A smile danced on his lips then, his eyes peering into the fog. There was a feeling he had now, one that was much older than his training. "Who's hunting whom?" he asked of the night. No doubt, just as he was tracking the werewolf, it was tracking him.

Van Helsing held a single revolver at the ready, stepping through the fog and slowly moving deeper into the city. He could hear the creature moving about, and he knew that he did not want to lead himself into one of the narrow alleyways. It was the worst place to face a werewolf. Instead, he kept moving through the town until he found what he was looking for; the open area of Tirgoviste's graveyard.

An odd feeling flared in the back of his mind. Van Helsing wasn't sure quite what it was, but, as he walked past a building on his way into the cemetery, he cocked his revolver, just in case. But still, he wasn't sure what it was that his instincts were telling of. He stopped, then turned his eyes to see a coffin laying against the wall.

"Nice night."

He came about and brought his weapon to bear, now seeing the local undertaker, Danesti, laying back in the coffin. Wait, something was different. The man seemed more full of life, a bit more color in his skin. Did the time of day have that much effect on him? Or maybe it was something else.

"It's a bit tight for me," the man remarked. He stepped out of the box, raising his hands up like a square while moving to turn Van Helsing and measure him against the size of the coffin. Something noticeable was that he was carefully keeping his distance, not once touching the man. "But for you," he continued, his eyes gleaming. "A perfect fit...what a coincidence."

He turned and picked up a shovel, now heading into the graveyard while Van Helsing cautiously followed. "I see the wolf man hasn't killed you yet."

"Don't worry," Van Helsing retorted, though it was almost devoid of any humor. "He's getting to it." He paused, now deciding to bring to light what was bothering him about Mister Danesti. "You don't seem too worried about him."

The undertaker laughed, breaking the earth and beginning to dig a new plot. "I'm no threat to him," he said calmly while going about his work. "I'm just the one who cleans up _after_ him, if you get my meaning."

Indeed, he did. No doubt Dracula's presence had been giving Danesti a lot of business. However, Van Helsing had to wonder about how long their odd, unspoken partnership had gone on. "Little late to be digging graves, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's never too late to dig graves," Danesti replied, just as a sound could be heard from the alleys that made Van Helsing turn around to see what it was.

Something had indeed always bothered him about Danesti. He had looked terrified when he first attempted to measure Van Helsing, like he was afraid to touch him. More so, he had vanished during the attack earlier when the sun came out, and now, he looked like he had gained some life into his face. In fact, it all indicated...

He spun back around just as Danesti said, "You never know when you'll need a fresh one." His left hand came up in time to grab the shovel which descended for his head, and his revolver was now aimed right at the undertaker's face. Those elongated teeth confirmed it; Danesti was a vampire.

"Oh!" he cried, releasing the shovel handle and stepping away while raising his hands as a sign of peace. It wasn't the gun that frightened him, he'd had no reaction from that the first time; it was Van Helsing. "So sorry. It's just...my nature."

Van Helsing narrowed his eyes. He could hear the breathing behind him, but he had enough time at the moment to finish _this_ issue. "Well it's _my_ nature to get rid of things of _your_ nature."

He pulled away just in time, for at that moment, the werewolf launched itself from the fog and came slamming into Danesti. Van Helsing could hear a sickening crunch as they met, and the tearing of flesh that sounded like a bite. A moment later, the wolf man had leapt away, and Danesti was disintegrating. Yet, Van Helsing had done nothing. Had the werewolf done this?

_Vampires and lupus cannot bear the curse of the other._

The voice in his mind told him of the answer, and though he knew it had never been in any notes or briefing before on the two creatures, the proof was right in front of him. Clearly, his memory was starting to surface.

His aim was on the beast, ready to start pumping the silver bullets into the werewolf. But at the last second, just as he pulled the trigger, someone grabbed his arm and disrupted his aim. The bullet flew wild and hit a gate post, while the werewolf leapt away and over the city walls. He turned to see who had stopped him, and the culprit surprised him.

It was Anna.

Anger was his first reaction. Grabbing the girl by the throat, he lifted her up and pushed her against a wall. "_Why!_" he yelled in anger, trying to understand the reason behind her saving that thing. "Why did you stop me!"

She gasped for breath. He realized that even with one hand, he was going to choke her. Van Helsing growled and let the girl go, but his rage had not faded away. "Why the hell did you stop me from killing that thing!"

"Please," she said, trying to explain. "I...if people knew..."

"He's not Velkan anymore!"

Both man and princess turned at the voice. There, standing in the fog, with a cloak added to his normal attire, was Adrian Tepes. His eyes glowed with the knowledge of secrets, revealing that he knew more about things than he had let on. And right now, Van Helsing had to wonder just how much Adrian did indeed know.

Anna was the first to react. "You...you knew!"

He nodded. "Ever since he fell from the plateau," Adrian confessed. He could see the anger in Anna's eyes, and he made no illusions to himself about it; that anger was righteous. He had withheld information from her, just as her family had before. But it had been for a reason. The girl was right; if people knew, the results of it could be disastrous.

"And still you let him try to kill my cousin!"

The nobleman walked over held Anna by the shoulder. "You more than anyone know that he'll kill people now, he's a werewolf."

"But he can't help it!"

That voice of command came back. Adrian was most adept at how to use that tone, but right now, it didn't seem to be working. "I know," he stated calmly. "And I blame him not. But he will do it anyway, and the only thing we can do to save him is to end his torment." He held Anna tightly as she began to cry, feeling her pain and knowing that she had done nothing to deserve such suffering. "I'm sorry. You're such a young soul, who does not deserve this burden..."

Van Helsing sighed. He knew he couldn't understand Anna's pain, the torment she'd endured, but he did know that he could help. That voice was calling to him, saying that there was a chance to save her cousin, but there wasn't much time. That, for him, was enough. He holstered his revolver and walked over. Now, it was not anger he displayed, but sympathy. "To have memories of those you loved and lost," he said calmly, holding her shoulder. "Perhaps that is harder than to have no memories at all."

He paused, looked to Adrian, and nodded. There was still time to find a way to save Velkan Valerious. Granted, it was foolish and dangerous. It would distract him from his mission, perhaps even help Dracula. Most certainly, it would make Jinette furious...so perhaps there was a brighter side to this after all. And no doubt, Professor Van Helsing would agree with his choice. "We'll look for your cousin."


	9. Chapter 8

Dracula stepped through the doors of the castle watchtower, where the laboratory of the late Doctor Frankenstein still remained, awaiting its dark purpose. He watched the Dwergi at work; such disgusting creatures, to be true, but as long proven, even the living had their uses. Victor Frankenstein had much proven his worth, even after his death. He had built this laboratory, something no other living man could have done, and as much as it insulted him to admit it, even Dracula was not sure he could have himself. Such an admission said something about the late doctor, Even in life, Dracula had been an exceptional man: a soldier, a statesman, an alchemist, working at the height of scientific knowledge in his time.

And in death, he was much more. But it still perturbed Dracula that a mortal had surpassed anything he could have imagined. Such was the mystery of existence. But, Frankenstein's genius had, still, been easily bent to his will.

His minions looked to him expectantly, and Dracula nodded his approval. One of the Dwerger slammed down a large switch with its small gloved hand., and the laboratory sparked to life. Brilliant arcs of electrical energy coursed up and down the walls as the massive dynamos, engines and machinery hummed and churned. All the while, the Dwergi scurried about in the chamber, preparing the equipment.

A flash of lightning outside, and Dracula smiled. Normally, such weather did not happen in winter, but he was a master of not just the night, but of the elements as well. He looked up to the shattered skylight, which he had smashed through when he had departed the lab after Frankenstein's success a year ago. "Igor!" he cried.

The twisted man peered over the railing of a catwalk. The count had been right to place him in Frankenstein's employ. Igor had been of much help in repairing the broken equipment, and in deciphering how to operate the massive machinery. He was also cruel and deceitful, qualities that Dracula much appreciated.

"Yes, Master!" Igor called back down.

"Have you finished?"

The man nodded as best he could. "Yes, Master! All is done!" He chuckled and moved down the catwalk, shoving a Dweger out of his way. "We lack much of the good doctor's notes, but the Dweger, they are smart."

A gleam of hungry pride was his Dracula's eyes. "Good," he said. Yes, indeed, the living had their uses.

* * *

Taking the time to go back and gather a few of his deadlier weapons, Van Helsing now was back in full attire, with his coat, gloves, and hat. As soon as he had gathered what he needed, he joined Adrian and headed out with him to hunt for Velkan. Tepes was still insisting that he was only giving Anna false hope for her cousin.

"Something tells me we have a chance to save him," Van Helsing said, reflecting on the voice in his mind. It had never steered him wrong so far, so it only made sense to continue listening. "Even if he is stuck as a werewolf, there may be a chance to give his human mind the power to control that form."

Adrian looked to Van Helsing oddly. Something about that idea seemed possible. "You mean like a _lycan_," he said on reflex.

That word was familiar. "_Lycan?_" Van Helsing asked, now interested in what Tepes might know about these matters. He slowed his horse's pace to let Adrian catch up. "I know the term _lycanthrope_ in relation to the werewolf curse, but what does _lycan_ have to do with the state of the victim's control?"

He sighed. Apparently, Van Helsing didn't know enough, so it was time to inform him. "There are two kinds of werewolves," he began, his eyes watching the footprints in the ground that led toward the castle. "_Lupus_, which are people who are cursed with the form of the werewolf. Then there are _lycans_, people who are born werewolves, though for them, it is more a gift than a curse." Adrian was quiet for a moment. His expression said that there was indeed a great difference between _lupus_ and _lycans_, and he hoped that Van Helsing's intent to make the latter possible for Velkan was not a pipe dream. "_Lycans_ can control their beast form, when they change, and the animal instincts. They are capable of communication with humans still. The moon, to them, is a mother. From my studies, I have discovered that to be a _lycan_ is to carry the touch of the moon and nature, a true blessing."

Yes, it would make sense. There had once been a time when, in pursuit of a _lupus_, he could have sworn he was being helped by another werewolf, one that very much was not a mindless raging beast. Considering the creature had not caused further problems in the German forests, Van Helsing had thought little of it and left it out of his report to the Vatican. Now, though, it made sense what he had seen; it was a _lycan_.

He dismounted his horse after bring it to a halt. There was something in the low branches, and Van Helsing had a good idea what it was. Still, the conversation with Adrian was helping to calm his nerves. "So, why do you battle Dracula?"

A look on Adrian's face said he was hesitant to answer. He glance to Van Helsing. "It's personal," he finally said, dismounting to join Van Helsing on foot. "My family has...certain ties to Dracula. It deals with my relations to Matthias Corvinus." A spark of regret. Was there something Adrian again was not telling? Van Helsing wasn't sure if he could trust the man now if he kept hiding all these secrets. "I suppose you could call it family honor." He paused. "What about you? Why do you do this work, what do you hope to get out of it?"

That was a question he had been expecting, and always had an answer for. "A little self-realization," Van Helsing replied, walking over to the tree branch. "Maybe to find out who I am. The only thing I've gotten so far, however, is nightmares." He pulled a long thick swatch of fur from the branches, now looking toward the castle. Something pulled in his memory again. "_Lupus_ only shed their fur like this before their first full moon," he muttered. Apparently, he knew enough about the breeds to know that much.

Adrian nodded, then turned around and held up his hand to create a sphere of light. When he saw what was behind them, he hissed. "Anna!" the man exclaimed. "What in God's name are you doing here!"

Turning, Van Helsing saw the girl had followed them, still in her riding clothes. It seemed that she'd finally given into her defiance and chosen to come after them. It was not a good idea. But he knew well why. "Can't be too angry," he said to Adrian. Van Helsing looked to Anna. "I find it hard to disagree with her; that's her cousin we're trying to save, she wants to be there."

For a moment, the anger lingered on Adrian's face. But then he relinquished and nodded. "Alright," he said, now smiling a bit. "But you stay close to Van Helsing, you understand? Dracula's trying to capture you for some reason even I don't yet know."

Anna nodded, then moved to lead the way into the castle. It was then Van Helsing grabbed her shoulder and gestured for Adrian to shine his orb of magic light forward. "There are those who go through the front door," he said, and the light revealed about a dozen corpses that were entangled in the foliage. "And then there are those who get to live a bit longer."

* * *

There was a crash of thunder, and a howling roar that came from a fissure in the castle walls. Dracula paid no attention, but knew that his more bestial servant had returned. It was about time.

The werewolf slid down the walls, claws digging into the hard stone. He then leapt to one of the girders, sliding down it like a pole, then finally dropped to the ground. Now, the absence of moonlight hit him instantly, and he fell down, writhing in pain as his body began to change. He tore at his fur, his body shrinking and shedding while the skin of the wolf was ripped off, and at last, laying there on the stone floor was Velkan Valerious.

"Werewolves are such a nuisance on their first full moon," Dracula commented while Velkan fought to recover from his painful transfiguration. He grinned at seeing the agony in the man's face. "So hard to control." He then frowned, walking away toward a group of Dwergi. "I send you on a simple errand to find out who the stranger is, and you had to stop for a chat with your cousin." Dracula had seen the exchange, and though Velkan had not revealed anything important, it seemed he still had enough power over himself to effect a transformation when the moon was blocked off.

Now able to stand, Velkan rose to his feet, even now defiant of the vampire. "Leave Anna out of this!" he yelled, his rage still touched by the beast within. "She knows not of your secret, and I will soon take it to my grave!"

_Yes, he is strong-willed indeed,_ Dracula reflected. Of course, most of the Valerious bloodline had been trained to have great willpower, strong minds. It was only natural, considering they had sworn themselves to aid the Corvinus family. Even now, Velkan was resisting Dracula's hold on his mind. He would so enjoy this now. The vampire stepped over to the rusted pod where Frankenstein's creature had been brought to life, then turn towards Velkan.

"Do not wish for death so quickly," he stated, his eyes cold as ice. "I still have much use of you."

"I would die before helping you!"

So predictable. Dracula had faced enough men like him to know what they would say. "Don't be boring," the vampire replied, turning toward the pod where the Dwergi were working to pull something out of it. "Everyone who says that ends up dead, and I'm rather tired of the mess." It was true; Victor Frankenstein had said similar words, and it had ended up upending the count's plans. This time, however, it was different. "Besides, after the final stroke of midnight, your mind will be gone, and you will have no choice to obey me!"

The Dwergi finally pried the object lodged in the pod out and threw it to the ground. It was a badly burnt corpse. Dracula smiled while Velkan looked down on it, and when the man saw the stylized cross that was around the corpse's neck, his eyes burned with anger. "Look familiar?" the vampire asked teasingly.

"Uncle Nicholas," Velkan whispered in horror. The whole time his uncle, Anna's father, had been missing, they thought he was out searching for Dracula. Instead, he had been here the whole time, a victim of Dracula's torture. Just imagining it alone was enough to ignite the wolf's rage that lay within him. "You filthy beast!"

As he rose, Velkan was halted by Dracula's hand now holding him by the underside of his chin. "He proved _useless!_" the vampire hissed, pushing Velkan back and into the pod. "But with the _lupus_ venom in your veins, I hope you will be over greater benefit!"

Velkan struggled as the Dwergi strapped him down. He wished that he could now summon the might of the werewolf, to lose himself in that power just this once so that he might tear Dracula apart. But as hard as he fought, his human strength was no match for the bonds that tied him down. "I swear, count!" he roared out. "Even if I failed to kill you, Adrian and my cousin will not, and they will finish what Lord Matthias started!"

The angry cries of the man was music to Dracula's ears, and even as Velkan was raised toward the skylight, the vampire smiled, spinning about as if in a dance. Yes, tonight would be glorious indeed.

* * *

There was suspicion in Van Helsing's eyes now, as the three of them entered the castle through a small back entrance than Adrian had led them to. Just how much did Tepes know about all this? He knew the secrets of this castle, the secrets of the supernatural, and he seemed to know about things before they were even obviously revealed. His trust for the man was being greatly tested now.

Once inside, their boots splashed in the puddles of water that dotted the floor. The trio quietly moved through into the foyer, and Van Helsing drew out a shotgun from the folds of his coat the moment he heard a low guttural sound that was approaching from one corridor. There was a stench here; the stench of corruption. Dracula was here, no doubt about it. Van Helsing could feel it. Maybe he would be able to finish this faster than expected.

A small creature scurried past from the far end of the hall. Van Helsing was about to aim his weapon when Adrian grabbed him by the arm and shook his head. "_Dweger,_" he said. When Van Helsing gave him a confused look, the man continued to explain. "Trolls, they're servants of Dracula's. Industrious creature, and vicious." He paused a moment. "If you have a chance to kill one, do it, because they will do far worse to you."

"Right."

Another Dweger appeared from the hall, carrying cables as it trailed behind its fellow. One of them grumbled off something, though Van Helsing couldn't understand it. He did, however, understand when the name "Velkan Valerious" was said. It didn't take much to figure it out from there.

"They're using my cousin for something," Anna said with fear in her voice. "Adrian, we have to help him, he's still fighting the sickness!"

"Anna, there is no hope for Velkan!" Adrian hissed. It pained him to say it, but if Van Helsing was in fact wrong about there being a chance, it was best to shatter the illusions now. If it turned out to be otherwise later, then there was nothing to worry about. "We can't save him, but we can at least make sure that he is free of Dracula's grip."

* * *

Lightning filled the sky, crackling madly as thunder roared, almost in protest. Yes, even nature tried to defy him, rebel against his will, but Dracula was the master of all things. This storm was his creation, he commanded it, the way he commanded werewolves.

The Dwergi scurried about, tending to the equipment. The balance of forces needed was delicate; one miscalculation, and Velkan might end up just like Nicholas Corvinus, a ruined and burnt corpse. If the man were transformed, then it would not be an issue, but in his human shape, Velkan was still vulnerable to mortal wounds, and death. Such was the problem with a _lupus_. He didn't trust his luck to _lycans_, however. They were a natural enemy of vampires, it would do no good trying to recruit one of them. Something to do with vampires being an affront to the natural order, something ridiculous like that. No matter, it was not an issue now.

But what had frustrated the count was that most of Doctor Frankenstein's notes were missing, as were all his journals - an unpleasant surprise, but one that he'd been able to compensate for. The _lupus_ blood in Velkan made him stronger, more durable, and less susceptible to variations in the process.

Electrical power crackled, the dynamos and generators whirling. The chemical vats bubbled. Everything was accelerating, and the time was near. Soon, his plans would come to fruitation

* * *

The three came around a huge stone column, now entering a massive hallway chamber. The sight that greeted them was a strange and disturbing one. Hanging from the rafters and the walls were dozens of green pustulus pods, dripping with slime and looking like odd maggots. Anna nearly lost her stomach while Van Helsing merely wrinkled his nose at the smell. Whatever they were, they had a wretched stench.

"Any idea what those things are?" he asked.

Adrian nodded, but the expression said that he wished he hadn't known. "I've got a strong clue," was the man's reply. He glanced to Anna, then to Van Helsing. For a moment, he did not continue his words while they stared about at the cocoons. "Vampiric spawn."

They both looked at him. "Not literally," Adrian added to clarify what he meant. "Vampires are the walking dead, they cannot sire children of their own with other vampires. But these are a creation of Dracula's, there can be no doubt of it."

"For a moment, I thought you were going to bring up his damn brides," Van Helsing remarked while glancing around at the pod, trying to imagine what was inside them. Wires stuck out of the cocoons, electrical wiring, Van Helsing noticed. It meant one thing. "He must be trying to bring them to life." The thought was a disturbing one. "Danesti mentioned that Dracula and his brides only kill one or two people a month." Granted, considering Danesti had been one of Dracula's minions, he wasn't so sure how much he could take that to be the truth. No doubt that man had done his own share of feasting on the people of Tirgoviste and added to that. But now, with this new equation, things changed. "If he brings all these things to life..."

A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder made it that he need not finish those words. The result of such an event was clearly obvious. It didn't take that long for Van Helsing then to break open a box of special shells that Carl had devised. He quickly began loading them into his shotgun, having a gut feeling that they would come in handy.

"What are those?" Anna asked. Van Helsing glanced to her before finishing his load and locking the weapon shut.

"A little gift to Dracula from Carl," he said, tossing a shell to the girl so that she could examine it. He noticed the confusion in her eyes. "Something he calls silver nitrate, supposed to be really nasty when used on werewolves and vampires." He shrugged then. "And anything else you pump it into."

* * *

His eyes blazed with pride, victory soon at hand. With a hiss, Dracula slammed down the iron hatch of the chemical tank, securing it tightly. He then turned to his servants. "Let us begin!" he commanded.

Igor and the Dwergi instantly clambered up the scaffolding that hung over the lab to their stations. The storm was growing violently in power, and even now, rain was pouring in through the shattered skylight. Brilliant flashes of lightning split the sky while terrible peals of thunder tore the air. It was the beginning of a new era, his era, and the feeling was exhilarating.

A bolt struck down, slamming into the conductor above the pod. Dracula could even now imagine the electricity that must be flowing into Velkan's body. It would be painful, and the thought gave him a twinge of pleasure. Moments later, the surge of energy burst down and flowed through the wiring that lead deep into the castle's depths.

His age had begun.

* * *

Van Helsing reached for one of the cocoons. As he touched it, he made a disgusted face at the squishing sound that was made when his hand made contact with the slime coating the pod. "Disgusting," he muttered.

A crash from above. He knew that sound, and quickly pulled away in time as the surge of electricity flow down through the ceiling, coursing the wires and striking the cocoons. They started to pulsate, giving them the indication that Dracula's plan was commencing. However, Van Helsing took the chance to pull open one of the pod. His nose wrinkled at the smell while he fought the urge to pull his hand away as a flood of fluid came spilling out through the hole he had made.

Anna looked over, obviously looking sick. "What are you doing?" she asked while holding her left hand over her mouth to block the stench.

"I want to see what we're up against," he replied. He glanced back and noticed something; Adrian was gone. Where had he gone, and why? Surely, he hadn't left to chase after Dracula himself, it was madness. But Tepes did seem to know what he was doing.

Retuning to his task, Van Helsing reached in and pulled out a hand-full of thick goop from in the cocoon. He tossed it aside, repeating and empting the pod of fluid until he touched something solid. His hand peeled away more of the pod shell, and he could see now what it was inside. "So this is what you get," he muttered to himself, "when vampires can't mate."

It was a small gray-skinned bat-like creature, with a squat human-like face, large lidless black eyes, and a hairless pig-snout. It resembled the brides in their demon forms except smaller, more stocky. In fact, it somewhat resembled a pygmy gargoyle.

The creature suddenly snapped to life, hissing at him viciously. He backed away, but it didn't follow. Obviously, that first bolt wasn't enough to fully give these horrible creatures life, only enough to be aware of things. That changed as a second flash and boom sent another surge flowing down. The electrical crackling caused the pods to explode, releasing the creatures out into the air. Van Helsing quickly pulled Anna about and hid behind a column when he heard a noise from above. For the moment, they were safe, and he could see the two remaining brides stepping out onto a balcony high up, along with a man clad in black.

He narrowed his eyes as there was a flash in his mind. Not just a recall of his briefing, but something deeper, more rooted in his past. The features did not have the beard as in the briefing, but it was the same man, he knew it, _felt_ it. It was Dracula, and Van Helsing at last knew the face of his enemy, the face that was haunting him.

Suddenly, he heard something. Dracula was talking with his brides, telling them to lead these vampiric creatures, to teach them to feed. _The city_, his mind rang in fear. The brides leapt from the balcony, screaming in joy before transforming and flying up to lead the pygmy creatures towards the sky.

His shotgun was readied, the first round pumped into the chamber, and Van Helsing stepped out while the pygmies flew towards the now shattered skylight. "This is where I come in!" he yelled, aiming and firing a round off. The silver nitrate splattered into his target, and the pygmy vampire screeched before exploding into slime. Very nasty reaction.

Carl's invention had worked perfectly in the test, and thusly, Van Helsing turned about to fire round after round, killing the creatures even as they flew to escape. He turned about, eyes trained on one in particular, and as he fired, he noticed that Dracula was glaring down at him. Good, exactly what he wanted. "Now that I have your attention," Van Helsing quipped, pumping the action once more to expel the last empty shell.

There was an angry hiss, and Dracula leapt from the balcony, roaring furiously as he made the drop. It was then that Van Helsing realized garnering Dracula's attention might not have been the best idea. He and Anna ran while Dracula, now transformed, began to cause massive gale winds with the beating of his wings. Pieces of equipment designed to relay the life-giving electrical energy into the pods were flung about, sparking madly while the humans raced to escape. Anna managed to get to a doorway that looked to lead up into the watchtower. Van Helsing was tempted to follow, but she was safer if he kept Dracula busy. Besides, Adrian had said the vampire was after her for some reason. Best to keep him here while she went to save her cousin.

As suddenly it had begun, the winds died, and Van Helsing hid behind a pillar while he watched Dracula's shadow land, reshaping to look like a man. The vampire's voice echoed through the hall. "I can tell the character of a man," he began, walking on the stone floor. "Judge his spirit by the sound of his heartbeat." Dracula chuckled, now slapping his hands together, slow at first, then progressively faster. "Usually when I approach, I can almost dance to the beat!" he stated, his hands quickly slowing to a calm pulse, then stopping. "Strange...that yours is so calm, so fluid." He paused a moment. Surely, he couldn't be hearing what met his ears. "No, more like, a chorus of voices," the vampire whispered.

_A chorus?_ Van Helsing pondered what Dracula had meant by that. Of course he had a heartbeat, he was like any man. But something was odd about it; he didn't feel it pounding, racing along. In fact, he felt nothing but utter calm.

* * *

Carl thought he could spend the rest of his days here in Corvinus Manor. He was in the library, sitting in front of a window that looked out toward the castle. There were books here that even the Vatican didn't have. Incredible volumes, telling of much of the lost secrets of an ancient world. Folklore, ancient mathematics, spirituality...he'd even found a book that described the original purpose of magicks, as a benevolent art for defense and healing. And it did detail a reliance on a caring deity, most obviously referring to the Christian God. It was a wonder why the Church objected to the mystical arts after seeing this. No doubt this was how Adrian had become such an accomplished magus.

Almost hating to spoil the pristine order of the collections, Carl had arranged the materials he needed as carefully as he could, stacking them on the large table he was using as a desk. Right now, he was looking through a tome that told some history about the days of Dracula. Most definitely of use in their task, so he'd assumed. But so far, it mostly detailed his history as a man and the reign of terror he'd spread once he became a vampire. The, he found something interesting.

"'By half-damned blood,'" he recited from the poem he was reading. "'A pure soul can carry his curse, yet walk the day and suffer not his pain. But blessed by God and born to a mother's love, by the blood of the son shall the dead's rule be undone.'"

What did it mean, Carl was not sure. Surely, it had something to do with someone who had been damned by God, but then why then was this pure soul who carried that curse blessed by God as well? And what was this about 'born to a mother's love'? Clearly this would require much research.

He picked up another book, starting to read through its contents. Now this was worth the read; lore of the Roma Gypsies, detailing the vampire. He had just come to a page that started talking about something called a "_dunpeal_" when he heard a skittering noise from outside. He stood up, looked out the window, and saw a mass of what looked to be bats coming from the castle. "What the..."

Something hit the window, and Carl saw clearly what the bats were; gargoylish creatures, with long canines that were obviously intended for piercing skin and drinking blood. He noticed then Dracula's brides soaring through the air, and there was no doubt in Carl's mind what was going on.

"Bloody hell!" he roared, now grabbing his coat and racing out of the library. As he ran to head for the city, Carl shouted to the servants to stay inside, and though he would be safest following his own advice, he was an agent of the Templar, and with Van Helsing gone, he had a duty to help those people in Tirgoviste as best he could.

Besides, Van Helsing wasn't the only one who could show his prowess. Carl had proven a few times that he had his own combat skills, and while he didn't have Van Helsing's training, he was competent enough to hold his own. After all, what point was there in being a weapons designer if you didn't know how to use the devices you created?

He ran into the city, arriving not too long before the vampire creatures. People had just come out of the pub to head home for the night, but were now staring at the swarm which was flying from the castle. "Oh, bloody hell indeed," Carl intoned as the creatures and the brides arrived, everyone panicking and running to escape.

His eyes caught sight of the pub barmaid, and he ran over, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to safety while a group of the pygmies flew by. She was in hysterics, breathing heavily while he was nothing but the utmost calm. His mind was running through thoughts of how peculiar these people of Tirgoviste acted. After having lived in the shadow of the vampires for this long, one would think they'd learned _not_ to gawk and stare when something obviously not natural came from that blasted castle.

The bats were grabbing people, pulling them into the air and carrying them away. Carl recognized two things about these creatures now; there was a god-awful horde of them, and they were _strong_. And alone, there was no way he could do a whole lot of good.

"Where's that damn Van Helsing when you really need him?"


	10. Chapter 9

As she cautiously walked into the watchtower, Anna kept her had at the handle of her short sword. Hopefully, she wouldn't actually have to use it, considering how little skill she had, but it reassured her all the same. Dracula was battling Van Helsing, and his brides were off with those horrible creatures in the city. That meant Dracula's remaining servants would all be mortal - vulnerable. 

At the top of the stairs, she drew her weapon, her eyes flicking back and forth. She saw, down below in the laboratory, the terrible Dwerger scurrying about to maintain the machinery, and a twisted man who was shouting out orders. He looked familiar... 

Of course! He was that wretch who had killed a pair of children in the city some years ago, Igor. The people of Tirgoviste had hung him for his crime, but somehow, he'd survived with a broken neck. The rumor had been he'd worked for Doctor Frankenstein after the doctor had moved into this castle. There had been a scandal, she recalled, involving grave-robbery, and Igor had been nowhere to be found on the night Frankenstein and his monster were killed. 

"Keep the atmosphere electrified!" Igor shouted out, trying to get the Dwergi to work faster. "Activate the generators! Power the dynamos!" 

A gauge showed that the output was dropping rapidly, and Igor growled as he hit it. Still, there was no change. "We are losing power!" he cried out to the trolls. "The human is insufficient!" 

_Human?_ It had to be Velkan. Anna looked up just as a bolt of lightning struck the rooftop conductor and could see her cousin's arms flail widely. He was still alive, in that pod up there. But werewolf's blood or not, he couldn't take that assault for much longer. She had to get him out of there. 

Climbing a ladder, she came to the catwalk. Stepping onto it, Anna hurried towards the ladder at the other end, then skidded to a halt when she saw a Dweger standing before her, now turning around and growling. Looking back, Anna saw another of the horrible trolls. She was trapped. 

She turned and saw a rope leading upwards. Sheathing her sword, Anna leaned over the railing of the catwalk and pulled herself up the rope, climbing as fast as she could. The girl held on as tight as she could, for down below was a large vat of nasty looking chemicals that were bubbling madly. A moment later, the two Dwergi made the same leap, catching to the rope below her. Anna swore at herself, having forgotten for a moment just how quick and clever these creatures were; more than one of her countrymen had fallen to these beasts for having underestimated them. 

But she would not. Drawing out her sword, Ann pulled her legs up and swung, cutting the rope beneath her in a single slice. The Dwergi screamed as they, along with their length of rope, fell into the vat. The girl breathed with relief as she sheathed her sword again, then started climbing once more. 

The rest of Dracula's servants seemed to not even notice her, which, for Anna, was all the better. They continued to toil below, and Anna could hear Igor shouting off orders still. "We must not lose the Master's progeny!" 

_You most certainly will if I have something to do about it._

- 

He looked about, trying to find his prey, but there was no sign of that man in black. Dracula was perturbed. First, this man not only dared to kill one of his brides, now he invaded his home and set about killing his creations. But more than that, he had weapons that could do such. For that, he was to be loathed. 

He walked down through the hall, eyes watching for any sign of the intruder. Something had seemed familiar about him from that glance he had before. Something in his eyes, and in his voice. Dracula kept his composure, and for all his fury, he was going about his task with cold precision. 

Something fell from above. Dracula spun about to see what looked like a sort of flare. A flare that had to have been dropped. He suddenly realized his mistake, then turned in time to see the man in black drop down from above and ram a wooden stake into his heart. He twisted it hard while continuing to push in, then, stepping back, made the sign of the cross. 

"_Requiescat in pace,_" he said in a clear and angry tone. Van Helsing noted the pain on Dracula's face, waited for him to fall. He had hit directly into the monster's heart, driven the stake down as much as possible just to be sure. Maybe it would be this easy after all. 

And then Dracula smiled. 

"Hello, Gabriel." 

A horrible realization dawn on Van Helsing's face. Dracula wasn't dead. This was impossible, he was a vampire. To drive a stake through the heart of a vampire was to kill them, to destroy their unholy source of life. How could Dracula still be standing there, with an oak stake in his heart, smiling? 

And then, it hit him. Dracula had addressed him by a name. Not by a title, not as 'Van Helsing', but as 'Gabriel', a true name. The monster had addressed him as if he knew him personally, not merely of him. And that name alone ignited a flood of memories. He now saw, clearly, a vision of that horrible battle which had plagued his mind. He was standing there, on a field filled with death. People were hanging upon pikes and poles, some still alive and suffering. It was horrible, but he knew that he wasn't the one who had done this. 

The man before him was. 

Looking to the stake in his heart, Dracula snorted. "Is this your wooden stake?" he asked, pulling the object from his chest and throwing it aside. He chuckled, taking a step towards Van Helsing, who quickly moved away. "How long has it been, Gabriel...three, four hundred years!" He saw the confusion in his opponent's eyes, the uncertainty. "You don't remember...do you?" 

"Exactly what is it," Van Helsing replied while making sure to keep his distance, "that I should be remembering?" He took a step back into the ancient foyer. Dracula's movements reminded him all too much of a cat that was playing with a mouse. 

This was too amusing for the vampire. He pulled off his cloak and tossed it aside, the pleasure on his face all too clear. "You are the great Van Helsing!" Dracula exclaimed, continuing to walk towards the man. "Trained by monks and mullahs from Tibet to Constantinople. Protected by Rome herself." The vampire's features now went dark. "But, like _me_, hunted by all others." 

"The Knights of the Templar know all about you," Van Helsing retorted, trying to buy enough time to sort this all out, time he wouldn't have if he let Dracula get close. He took a step around one of the generator relays, noting the amusement on Dracula's face. "It's no surprise that you would know about me." 

"But it is so much more than that!" the vampire exclaimed, continuing his odd dance about the foyer in his attempt to follow Van Helsing. He spread his arms, as if gesturing to the castle walls around him. "We have such history together, Gabriel." He paused. "You really don't remember it at all, do you? Haven't you wondered why you have such horrible nightmares, memories of ancient battles long past?" A smile again. "And who can forget those scars on your back...the ones near your shoulders?" 

This was wrong, all wrong. How did Dracula know him? He was a man with a mission from God, so the professor kept saying. And he'd never met Dracula before in his life, hadn't he? But then how did the vampire know so much about him, knew who he was, about his nightmares, about those odd scars that were over his shoulder blades? 

Something flickered in his mind. Not the usual visions of battles, but something else, something new. He could see light all around him, voices singing. He felt an awesome presence unlike anything else, a presence of benevolence, of clarity. And then, Van Helsing was brought back to reality, a cold reality where he was facing Dracula, the most dangerous being on the planet. 

And somehow, Dracula had begun a chain reaction that was returning his lost past to him. It made no sense at all, but it was happening. He was starting to remember. It left only one question now. 

"How do you know me?" 

Dracula only smiled, taking a step toward Van Helsing while some of the machinery sparked. "So," he said calmly. "Would you like me to refresh your memory a little?" He raised his hand, fingers positioned as if holding something. "A few details from your sordid past?" 

There it was - the thing he wanted most of all. The end of his search, and Dracula was offering it to him. But the images were now coming clear and true, not in shattered fragments. Who knew what lies he would be told if he trusted this man, this...beast. No, Dracula could not be trusted. Van Helsing's reaction was immediate as he pulled out the silver cross and raised it to Dracula's face. 

_His_ reaction was also immediate. 

Shrieking out in horror, the vampire grabbed the cross, which instantly caught on fire, now melting violently. Van Helsing pulled away, releasing his tool and stepping back while Dracula yelled in rage and then threw the melted cross to the ground. Just as quickly, he regained his composure, looking as if nothing had happened. 

"Hm," he snorted. "Perhaps _that_ is a conversation for another time." Dracula paused, then regained his smile. "Allow me to _re_-introduce myself." He bowed, triggering a more recent memory in Van Helsing's mind. The style, the mannerism...it was just like Adrian! "I am Count Vladislaus Dracula. Born fourteen thirty-one." He hesitated a moment, letting the lightning crash in the sky. "_Murdered_ fourteen sixty-two." 

At that moment, a window smashed in, glass raining down as a large black and white wolf leapt through into the foyer. It raced at Dracula, jumping up to attack him, then, as the vampire fell back, moved away. It stood there on the steps, bright blue eyes shining with intelligence. There looked to be a belt strapped onto the wolf, upon which was a sword and sheath. Then, something happened that made everything clear to Van Helsing. It _changed._

The body lengthened, back legs transforming to be those of a human while the black fur reformed into velvet. Red flaps capped the shoulders now, and the white fur transformed into pale blonde hair while the forelegs became human arms, brown gloves covering the hands. The sword was pulled back under the velvet overcoat. But those eyes didn't change one bit. They were what revealed him for who he was. 

Dracula was the first to speak after healing his wounds. "Welcome home, _Alucard._" 

- 

Chaos reigned in the city, the humans fleeing from the vampire creatures while Aleera and Verona circled about in joy. "Feed, my darlings," Verona cried, grabbing a man from the ground and throwing him up to the creatures. They quickly swarmed him, preventing his return fall and attacking him viciously. "_Feed!_" 

Meanwhile, Carl continued to pulled the barmaid along through the streets, determined to at least get her to safety. Then, he could set about finding others to rescue, but it was best to work one step at a time. All around, the vampire creatures were attacking Tirgoviste, and a fear was building deep within him. He knew what would happen once these things got loose. This city was only the beginning, they would consume the whole world if they weren't stopped. 

A shattering sound came from above, and glass rained down from the third story window of the city inn. A woman had leapt out the window, chased by a swarm of the creatures and they caught her and flew back upwards into the air. Carl, for a moment, let go of his charge, watching the poor woman be taken away for death. He then heard a scream and looked back to see the barmaid clutching to a signpost while one of the vampiric monsters was pulling her up by the leg. 

"Bloody, bloody 'ell!" he swore. There was just no winning this one. But, he may as well try. Carl grabbed a bucket from the ground, ran up, and threw it hard, hitting the bat dead on and knocking it away. He stepped forward and caught the hapless barmaid, setting her on her feet again. Then he heard the screech. 

The vampire bat threw off the bucket, glared at Carl, and hissed just before diving at him. Its small mind expected him to panic, and while the barmaid let out a scream, what Carl did was the exact opposite. He calmly reached into his coat as the bat descended, then brought out a revolver and cocked the hammer. The look in his eyes said that he was very tired of things assuming he was no threat. 

"I don't think so." 

He pulled the trigger and unleashed a silver nitrate bullet that went flying through the air to hit the bat right between the eyes. The impact cause the creature's head to explode, the body falling to the ground in a lifeless heap. And then, as the bells began to toll, something else amazing happened. 

At first, it was a few, one by one, but the reaction spread, groups of the bats exploding into viscous slime. Clusters of them erupted, and then, they all at once were gone in a splatter. The brides screamed out as they watched in horror. The people that the creatures had been carrying plummeted to the ground, some surviving a short fall while others were not so lucky. But the end result was the same. 

Aleera screamed out angrily before she turned and soared off back toward the castle. Verona, however, was in tears, drops of blood falling from her eyes just as she too flew off to return to the castle. Once again, it had been a failure. 

- 

Near the top of the rope, Anna reached up and grabbed hold of the skylight framing. She grunted, then pulled herself up and onto the roof of the watchtower, her eyes fixed on the pod where Velkan was being held prisoner. Laying on that steel table, Connected to the horrible machines by wires, was her beloved cousin. It made her furious that her family had been used by Dracula like this. It wasn't bad enough that he had turned Velkan into a werewolf, but he was using the man as the instrument of his evil. With a deep breath, Anna ran over, moving to undo the straps and catches that held him down. She didn't have much time, she had to get him away from the place now. 

He looked dazed, not seeing here, but then he came to, eyes now showing awareness. Velkan blinked, looked to the girl, then sucked in air with shock. "_Anna?_" 

She nodded, continuing her attempt to free him. "Just give me a minute to get you out of here." 

He grabbed her hands, trying to get her away. "No!" he cried. "Don't unstrap me, get away from here!" 

She ignored him, refusing to leave him behind. "Velkan, we're going to get you out of here," Anna replied, her voice cracking with the barely held hope that there was a chance to save her cousin. "Van Helsing knows a way to cure you!" 

"Anna, get out of here and leave me, please!" 

He was so noble, so self-sacrificing. She couldn't just abandon him, not now. But then, she heard the chime, and realized now why he was trying to again send her away; it was too late. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and as the clock tower of the castle struck midnight, she felt something grab her face; Velkan's hand. It was already bursting with coarse fur, his body splitting and cracking as he was fighting to contain the werewolf long enough for her to flee. 

She'd already lost him. 

- 

The dance had now changed. Adrian was the one who matched moves with the count this time, and it was now that Van Helsing realized who it was Adrian resembled. It wasn't Corvinus; it was _Dracula_. "I had hoped we'd not meet again." 

"It has been a while, Alucard," the vampire lord said. The anger in Adrian's eyes was all too clear. It was a vicious anger, almost bestial. Dracula was evidentially amused by it. "Perhaps once I claim Anastasia Corvinus as my Bride, we can be like a family again." 

"I had wondered why you seek to take her alive," the younger man replied. "You see the same thing in her that I do." Clearly, he had a strong relation to Dracula. They shared features, mannerisms...even their voices were similar save in the strength of their accents. But Dracula has a malicious glint to his eyes, while Adrian had one of compassion, righteous duty, and purpose. "But I know that she only resembles her..._father._" 

It was impossible. Dracula was a vampire, the walking dead. The only being he could be father to was another vampire, and Adrian was certainly no vampire. He had stood out in broad daylight, commanded light of the sun, and even wore a crucifix on his attire. His own weapon was a sword made of pure silver. None of it made any sense. Why did Adrian refer to Dracula as his father? 

Clearly, there was something he had missed. 

"She _is_ Lisa's reincarnation," came his sharp retort. Dracula then glanced to Van Helsing, noting the look of confusion on the man's face. "I see you are well acquainted with my son," the vampire said, his expression calm, but his voice was straining to hide his anger. "No surprise. He takes whatever allies he can get in his ridiculous rebellion against me and my kind." There was a grunt of displeasure, distain, and resentment. Van Helsing could see it clearly; Dracula hated Adrian. "So typical of a _dunpeal._" 

"You act as if what I am is such a horrible thing," Adrian countered, moving about like he was ready to pounce. "You hated Matthias Corvinus so much, even now detest his memory, yet was it not _you_ who married my mother, Elisabetha Corvinus! Lied to her and all her family about what you were, what you are!" 

There was a roar from the count. He looked as if he could loose fire from his eyes, but his gaze caught notice of Adrian's buckle, and he pulled back. Dracula quickly brushed his hair back, trying to remain calm, but clearly, it was hard for him to do so. Adrian clearly was a reminder of something, something Dracula had lost a long time ago. Van Helsing also realized what that something was; Alucard reminded the vampire of his mother. 

"I hate all humans!" the count spat back angrily. "I hate them all! It was the humans who killed my Lisa, my light!" He and Adrian were now circling each other, like a pair of rival wolves. "And yet, despite that you were there when they killed her, burned your mother alive, you _defend_ them!" 

Adrian's expression was cold. He knew Dracula spoke the truth, but he also remember what his mother had told him before she had died. "At least I remember her dying words," he retorted. "At least I still have enough love for her that I keep her spirit alive by following those words! 'Do not hate the humans. If you can not live with them, then at least do them no harm, for ours is already a hard lot!'" 

"But _they_ murdered her!" 

The argument between father and son was getting violent. Dracula was already in a state of partial transformation, his face shifting in flux. And as powerful as Van Helsing knew Adrian was, there was no doubt that Dracula could kill him. Or was it possible to kill the half-breed child of a vampire? If Adrian was as old as he seemed to be suggesting, he very well might be just as immortal as his father. He was, after all, a _dunpeal_; half-dead. Something that was practically a myth even to the Roma gypsies who told stories of them. Adrian was a living, breathing example of something that should not be; the undead siring a child with the living. 

There were screams now. One of them, Van Helsing recognized; Anna. But the others were those of Verona and Aleera, Dracula's brides, and the emotion in those screams could not bee missed; abject horror. Dracula turned around at the wails of his brides, and Van Helsing took his chance to run while Adrian transformed into a large white furred bat and flew upwards towards the skylight. The man ran to a dumbwaiter, pulled out a tojo, and pumped the grip to get the blades spinning. He flicked it against the catch, now shooting upwards while Dracula looked back to see his foes escaping. 

- 

Even as Velkan was yelling out, Anna walked about on the roof, looking for a way to escape. She had pulled herself from his grip, a few bruises on her cheeks, but they were nothing compared what he would do once the werewolf took total control. She had to get out of there, now. 

Going back down was not an option. The brides' screams could be heard, they were returning, and Anna was no match for the Dwergi in the lab. She looked toward the pod. Velkan was battling the beast in him, trying to give her time, but it was a fight he was losing. Soon, he would become the wolf, and then, he would- 

Something bumped into her. She reached for her sword, then was harshly spun around to face the man who stood behind her. 

Van Helsing. He'd come back for her. 

"I think we've overstayed our welcome," he said while taking her by the hand and leading her to the edge of the roof. One hand slipping into his coat, he withdrew his grappling gun, aimed towards the forest that lay across the river which ran beside the castle, and fired. The hook plug tore through the air, tether spiraling forward while a puff of smoke came from the barrel. The plug ripped through the trunk of a tall oak tree, opened up with the hooks, and went back to lock into place. 

Van Helsing tested the line, then wedged the gun into one of the girders to secure the tether. Now whipping out a device that locked onto the cable, he wrapped his arm around Anna's waist, then, glancing back a moment to where Velkan was going through the final throes of his transformation, pushed off and sent them both sliding across the line. "Hold on!" 

There was movement in the corner of her vision. Anna saw the werewolf that had once been her cousin break free and leap to the wall of the tower. There was a deafening roar, and then, she heard the cable snap; they were falling. No, swinging. The device in Van Helsing's hand locked onto the tether, and they swung downwards, flying through the trees of the Black Forest before crashing along the ground. 

He stood up, shaking his head, then moving to help Anna to her feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked. 

Anna shook her head. "I'm all right," she replied. Physically, it was true, but emotionally, she was shattered. They had failed to save Velkan, and now he was forever lost to the curse of the werewolf. She burst into tears, throwing herself into Van Helsing's arms, looking for comfort. 

There was a rustling noise from above. Van Helsing spun Anna about to put her behind him as he drew out one of his revolvers, then sighed with relief when the large white bat came down and transformed into Adrian. "Just you," he muttered. He slipped the gun back in its holster, then took a deep breath before looking back toward the castle. That had been a very close call for a minute back there. 

- 

On the walkway up in the parapets of the castle, Igor stood, looking fearfully toward his master. Dracula was perched on the wall like a gargoyle, his eyes seething with anger. His brides, however, stood a good distance behind him, wailing in agony over the lose of the vampirlings. 

He snapped his head back at his mortal servant. If Igor had a tail, it most definitely would be between his legs. Good, best to show such humiliation. Dracula turned to glare back out toward the Black Forest, where Van Helsing and Anna Corvinus had escaped to. He was so close, both to success and to her. So young she was, yet so beautiful. And so much like her ancestor. 

"My Lisa," he hissed. "I have found you again..." 

Igor finally moved. Dracula spun his gaze back just as quickly towards his minion. "I fear that we are not so smart as the good doctor." 

It pained him to agree, but it was true; Frankenstein was the only one who could do what they could not. "Truly," he snapped. Looking back towards the forest, Dracula growled angrily. "It appears the good doctor took the secret of life with him to his grave." 

His remaining servant climbed up to the rampart. Dracula gave the werewolf an indignant stare, then smiled when he felt no resistance to his control; Velkan Valerious was his. At least one victory came of all this, even if it was a minor one. He turned once more to look out upon the country side. He could feel unbridled rage now, the fire of Hell itself burning within him. He would have liked very much to go after Van Helsing, but he could not leave his brides in such a state. 

As the wolf man shook to get the river water out of his fur, Dracula turned to him with a commanding stare. "Hunt them down," he hissed. The wolf looked to him, then nodded, turning to scan the forest. "Kill my son and that man. Bring me Anna Corvinus alive." 

- 

The rain was pouring now as the trio made their way across the moors. Up ahead were ruins which Anna and Adrian recognized as the remains of the old windmill which had burned down a year ago, when the townfolk had chased Frankenstein and his monster in here. 

Already, Van Helsing looked to be seething with anger. Adrian as well looked upset, but he was the first to vent it upon his companion. "A stake?" he questioned after finding out what had happened in the foyer before his arrival. "_A silver cross?_ Do you think we haven't tried all those things before!" His anger from the verbal fight with Dracula was still burning, and now, it was finding a release. "We've shot him, stabbed him, clubbed him, burned him, sprayed him with holy water, forced him into the sunlight, impaled him with my uncle's own sword, and still he _lives!_" The _dunpeal_ shoved Van Helsing against one of the charred struts of the mill sails. "Don't you get it! No one knows how to kill Dracula, and I've been trying for almost four hundred years!" 

"Well, it would have been damn nice if you'd told me the truth before!" Van Helsing yelled back. Now it was his turn to unleash his anger, and Anna wasn't the one who deserved the lashing. It was Adrian who had lied to him, withheld information from him and Carl, information vital to their mission. "Dracula is your father, why didn't you tell me in the first place!" 

There was a look of resentment now on Adrian's face. He sighed, now looking away from Van Helsing. "You're right," he said at last, conceding the point. "I was wrong to hide my blood from you. But...would you have trusted me then, if I had told you that I am Dracula's son?" 

He didn't answer right away. Adrian was right; would he have given his trust if he had known before? _Could_ he have trusted him then, before Adrian had proved himself. The answer was painfully obvious when he looked back on it. "No," Van Helsing whispered. "I wouldn't have. And as hard as I find it to trust you now, at least I know what side you're on." He looked now to Anna, apology in his eyes. "And I'm sorry that we couldn't save Velkan, I should have gone with you." 

She shook her head, letting him know that she did not blame him. "We did what we could," Anna replied, but her voice was cracked with her sadness. "We just were too late." 

Van Helsing knew her pain now, if only because he had promised to help her cousin and failed. With a resound sigh, he bent down and picked up an undamaged bottle of absinthe. Opening the cork, he took a sniff; still good. "No one is more regretful of that than I," he said. 

She nodded, but the pain didn't stop. For a moment, the girl let her memories of Velkan Valerious go through her mind, to remind her of the good man he had been, the brave man who had sacrificed himself to save her. It was then Anna smiled. Those memories felt good. "Do you have any family, Mister Van Helsing?" 

It was an odd question, and he'd never thought about it before. Granted, he had the professor, but that was more of an adoptive family than anything. "I don't really know," he replied. He looked into Anna's eyes, felt that spark she had which could lift a man's spirits, then smiled and pulled his hat from his head to lightly set it on hers. "I hope to find out some day, it's what keep me going." 

Adrian nodded. It was something he knew well. After all, he'd been fighting Dracula since he was old enough to wield a sword, driven only by the slim hope that someday, that war would be over, and he could have a real life. Free from the confines of his past, free from the oaths of his family, free to be who he wanted to be. He held his hand out for the bottle, smiling as Van Helsing handed it over. "Here's to what keeps you going." 

Bringing the bottle to his lips, he heard something, a cracking, just before the ground gave away beneath them and sent the three tumbling down under the ground. Anna gave a scream as they fell, debris crashing down all around them as they hit the water. 


	11. Chapter 10

The sun rose, light filtering into the halls of Corvinus Manor. Carl wearily awoke to the sight of the rising sun, groggily pulling himself from the table where he'd fallen asleep. For a moment, he couldn't remember what had happened. Then, noticing the headless creature on the table, he groaned and nodded. "That's right," he muttered while rubbing his face. He looked to see that, fortunately, the sunlight was not destroying the vampirling's body, probably because it as already dead. Still, he had a plethora of notes he'd taken in studying the creature. It had been vile work, prodding the internals of the pygmy vampire animal, but they needed to know what they were up against in case Dracula made another such attack.

He yawned. He'd been up all night examining the vampirling, and from the face of the clock in the library, he'd only slept for a few hours. It was just as well. Once he informed Van Helsing about what he'd learned about these abominations, there would be no time for sleep.

Speaking of which, where was Van Helsing? Surely he and Adrian would have returned by now. More important, where was Anna? If that girl had run off again only to be captured by Dracula...

Eyes caught sight of something in one of the books, the one on ancient Roma tales and legends. Carl had forgotten about his research from before the attack, but now, noticing the bookmark, he decided to resume the study. He picked up the book, noting where he'd left off, then began to read aloud. "_Dunpeal_," he whispered, though he was sure he wasn't pronouncing the word right. It was one he didn't recognize from his study of the Romanian language. "'As a vampire sired in life, so may he in undeath, though it can only be possible on one day. On the moon of Hallow's Eve, his body regains the power to create a life, and the offspring are born into the dying of the seventh month.'"

Something came to mind, but it was a different word. "The half-dead..." Yes, it was similar to something he'd read about. Dom Augustin Calmet's treatise on vampires, written back in the eighteenth century, had delved into such a creature; the child of a mortal and a vampire. But Calmet had used the Hungarian term, which referred to the half-breed offspring as _dhampir_, not as _dunpeal_, which this book claimed to be a Roma word. Did they in fact mean different things? This book described the _dunpeal_ as half-dead, caught between mortal life and undeath, while the _dhampir_ was half-damned, something carrying a diluted curse of damnation. Perhaps the difference was in the meaning.

He continued to read the passage. _Dunpeal_ were described as possessing unearthly beauty, ties to both life and death, and an air of command that was unsurpassed. A suspicion was crawling in the back of Carl's mind, recognizing these signs. "'Able to command the forces of natures,'" he recited. "'The art of shape changing, and a power to summon the aid of the sun.'" Summon the sun...Adrian had done that a day ago, when Marishka had been about to overcome Van Helsing. Realization came to the man's mind.

"He's Dracula's son," Carl whispered. It was obvious; Dracula was the only male vampire in the region, and only a male vampire could sire the half-dead. But it begged the question of why Adrian was _fighting_ his father. Would the son not help his sire? Or had something happened to cause them to battle each other?

Looking now into the other books, he searched for clues, any hint of why this war was raging between father and son. What he found was more than he had hoped for, when, reaching a thick leather bound book, he discovered the history and genealogy of the Corvinus. Obvious were those most recent in the family; Anna, her parents, her grandparents, and so on right down to Matthias Corvinus. But there was a branching into another family, some clan called Tepes, represented by a man named Vlad.

_Adrian said his family name was Tepes,_ his mind recalled. But who was Vlad Tepes, that was what piqued in Carl's mind. He knew he'd read the name somewhere before. Then, he realized it; Tepes was not a name, it was a title, the Romanian word for Impaler. And there was only one man who had earned such a name from the Romanian people. Vlad the Third, otherwise known as... "Dracula. Oh my god, that's it." He read the branching to discovered that Dracula had married into the Corvinus through Matthias' own sister, Elisabetha. And from them, there had been a single child; Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes.

But that would have to be _after_ Dracula had become a vampire in order for that child and the Adrian of now to be the same. According to what he read of Romanian history back at the basilica, Dracula died in 1476, and he had married Elisabetha in the 1460's. Clearly, there had to be a discrepancy somewhere. If these records were true, then Adrian was more than four hundred years old. Nothing in the legends of _dhampirs_ involved such immortal lifespans. Had Calmet missed something in his own research, or were there more differences in the legends of _dhampirs_ from those of _dunpeals_?

There was more to be done here. He'd found notes on what had become of Elisabetha; burned for witchcraft by villagers after she'd successfully healed the sick and wounded. No doubt, that had been what sent Dracula into total war against mankind. But as to why Corvinus had not killed Dracula when it was known he was a vampire...

* * *

There was a throbbing pain at first, then awareness, and then, she realized that she was still alive. Something heavy was on her, pinning her against the craggy wall, up to her neck in water. With a grunt, she pushed on the beams, trying to get them off, but it wasn't until Van Helsing finally pulled himself to his feet and helped her that Anna Corvinus was able to free herself.

They had fallen into a very dim, gloomy cavern that was barely illuminated by tiny fissures in the ceiling. From the looks of it, this place had been a basement storage chamber for the windmill when it was still in operation, which, from the looks of things both above ground and below, had been some years ago.

She was about to say her thanks when he covered her mouth with his gloved hand. She realized something else; there was no sign of Adrian. "Where is-"

"Something's down here," he whispered, indicating that she should stay as quiet as possible. He then gestured to a pile of small bones, obviously animals of some kind that had been picked clean of any meat. "Carnivorous at the least..." Van Helsing paused, tilted his head, then dropped his hand down into the waist-deep water they were standing in. Moments later, he pulled Adrian up, who looked to have just come to himself and was gasping for air.

The _dunpeal_ breathed heavily, nodding his thanks to Van Helsing. It was then he as well noticed the bone pile, now on his guard for trouble. He stood upright, drawing his sword and moving slowly out of the water.

Van Helsing took the lead. As he stepped onto dry land, he bent down and picked up what looked like a burnt bible. "Whatever it is," he continued, picking the bible up for a moment, "it appears to be human." His eyes caught sight of large boot-prints in the ground, something very odd for a place like this. He pointed them out to his companions. "Looks to be a size seventeen, about...three hundred and eighty, maybe four hundred pounds, so probably around two to three meters tall." Standing, Van Helsing stepped forward, following the tracks. Something began to prick in the back of his mind, almost like a warning. He's learned long ago not to ignore it. "Has a bad gimp in his right leg," he added, then, turning to look to Adrian and Anna, stared behind them. "And, uh, three copper teeth."

"Copper teeth?" Adrian asked. "How do you know that?"

"Because he's standing right behind you."

The creature stood there, motionless. But when Van Helsing brought attention to its location, the creature moved instantly. Adrian and Anna dove to the sides while Van Helsing took the split-second he had to assess his opponent. It was human in form - more or less - very tall, with pale skin that looked to have been sewn together by a child in several places. A rough scar ran across its forehead, and around the rest of its head from what Van Helsing could see. Many more scars could been seen through the ramshackle clothing it wore that appeared to have been made out of the mill sails. It looked as animal as it did man, and there was a large metal leg brace on its right leg, the source of the gimp.

He didn't have time for more examination, for as the monster moved, it was like a blur; he didn't even have a chance to ready his weapons. In the time it took him to even reach back for a revolver, the creature swat him away with a powerful backhand swing. The gun fell to the ground while he crashed into a rock wall, falling into a pool of water and wincing from the pain in his back. However, Van Helsing had other worries besides his own injuries. He could see the creature boring down on Anna, gazing at her.

"Oh my god," she gasped, backpedaling away as best she could. "Frankenstein's monster..."

"_Monster!_" the creature roared, continuing to follow Anna. "Just _who_ is the monster here!" It reached down and picked Anna up, lifting her into the air and pressing her against a wall. "I have done _nothing_ wrong, yet you and your kind wish me dead!" The voice was indignant; the creature sounded remarkably articulate, revealing a great intelligence underneath the crude form.

More mysteries to this grand puzzle. Anna claimed it was a monster, but when he reflected on it, Van Helsing realized that it had been down there with them the whole time, and if it truly was a monster, then it could have killed them whenever it wanted. In fact, it had been trying to stay hidden, and was furiously offended by Anna's words. Clearly, this being was not what it appeared.

He didn't have time to think much about it though. Adrian was already leaping into action, tackling the creature from behind and cracking its head against the stone. Anna was released, allowing her to get away while the creature turned to face Adrian. Incredibly, the top of its head and the left side of its face had popped open, revealing a cascade of electrical discharges into the delicate brain, and the metal plate that was under the skin of his face. Adrian made an attempt to grab the creature by the neck, but was met by a powerful shock that flung him back into the stone. Yelling in pain, the _dunpeal_ fell to the ground in a heap.

It turned and stalked after Anna again. She stumbled back, fell on her rear end, and pushed back while it came on her. Finally, she opened her mouth, and probably did the smartest thing any of them had done so far; she asked it a question. "What do you want?"

Coming to a halt, the creature blinked in surprised. "To exist," it said mournfully. Suddenly, there was a whistling sound, and the creature yelled out when six darts stabbed into its back in rapid succession. It fell to its knees, Anna scrambling to her feet while Adrian moved to join her. Van Helsing, still in the pool of water, locked shut the steel expandable blowgun in his hand while giving an expression of exasperation. He stepped out of the water while slipping the device back into his coat, then moved quickly when Anna picked up his fallen revolver from the ground and aimed at the creature. Fortunately, Adrian was there in time to grab her by the wrist.

"Wait," he urged.

Frankenstein's creation was still moving, eyes blearily glaring at the trio. Amazing; six darts, all coated with a heavy tranquilizer, and it was still conscious. It looked exhausted, beaten, and deeply sad all at once. The expression in those eyes was all too human as it spoke. "If you value your lives," the creature intoned, "the lives of your kind, you _will_ kill me!"

Van Helsing stepped forward toward the creature, noting how miserable it must have been this past year. The pathos in its voice was clear, revealing it to be more human than monster, and its breath grew increasingly labored. "If Dracula finds me..." It stopped, trying to stay awake. "I am the key to my father's machine...the key to _life_, life for Dracula's spawn."

"He already awakened them last night," Van Helsing replied, trying to put this poor being's fears to rest. But when it, he, gave a sorrowful laugh, it was clear that what had happened the night before was not the only such event like it.

"That was only one brood," the creature said, his expression full of pain, of regret. "One clutch from a single bride's flesh. They hatched and died, just as they did the last time he tried." There was fear now in the creature's eyes, fear of what could happen. "Only with me can he give them everlasting life."

Realization hit them all, and it was a terrible image that Frankenstein's creation had painted for them. If indeed the hatching last night was just one such brood, and it had happened before, then the implications of the true scope was far too horrific. But still, Van Helsing had to know for sure. "There are more?" he asked, kneeling down. "More of those..._things?_"

The creature looked at him. His gaze was long and soulful, lost, and afraid. "Thousands," was his answer, serving only to verify Van Helsing's fear. "Thousands more." He passed out, crashing to the dirt as the tranquilizer from six darts finally overcame his resistence. The horrible gravity of his words has hit the three like a ton of bricks, rendered Van Helsing speechless.

Anna raised the revolver again, stepping over toward the creature. Without thinking, Van Helsing swiftly rose to his feet and stop her from aiming. She looked at him in confusion. "You heard what he said," she stated.

He knew she was right. Better to destroy Frankenstein's creation than to let it be used against the entire world. It was logical. In fact, it made perfect sense. But there was something else that made him ignore logic.

For seven long years, since he had been found by Professor Van Helsing, he had wondered what truly separated him from the monsters he hunted. Far too often, the methods were the same, and no matter how much the Templar insistent that his actions were righteous, Van Helsing knew that sometimes, there could have been another way. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that he had never killed an innocent, and he'd never allowed one to die without making every effort possible to save them - God only knew he'd failed more times than he wanted to remember. It wasn't so much just a code as it was an ingrained instinct, something programmed into his very being. And that was what separated him from the Rippers of the world; he would not cross that line.

"My life," he began, trying to explain his reasons for sparing the creature. "My...job, is to vanquish evil." He pointed to the creature. "This thing...man...whatever it is. Evil may have brought about his creation, evil may have left its mark on him, but evil does not rule him...and so I cannot kill him." A thought came then. He realized that perhaps there was more to letting the creature live than just his instincts to protect innocent lives. "Your family has spent the last four hundred years trying to kill Dracula," Van Helsing explained. He turned to Adrian. "And you have been there this whole time, fighting that war. Maybe this poor creature can help us find the answer."

He suddenly realized something; he smelled a wet dog. Instincts went off, his hand pulling the gun from Anna's hand as he spun about and looked up to see the werewolf hiding up in the cleft in the ceiling. His hand came up, firing away, but his heart wasn't truly into making his mark, and the bullets impacted on rock. The werewolf snarled and scurried away, leaving the three to stare in horror.

"He's seen us," Adrian stated. "Now Dracula will know exactly where this creature is, and nothing will stand in his way of capture it and Anna!"

No, there was a way, there had to be. "If we get them to Rome," Van Helsing replied. He turned to face the _dunpeal_, eyes filled with fire. "If I take them to the Templar, we can protect them there. Dracula would never be able to set foot on those grounds."

_Are you so sure?_ The voice now was taunting him for some reason. It was like he was remembering something he'd always known deep down, but never could recall. _Dracula is practically invincible, with a single weakness that no one knows._

Adrian was clearly conflicted. Part of him was trying to demand the logical outcome, but another part had to admit that Van Helsing might be right. In the end, it was the latter that won out. "I'll get a coach," he said, stepping back and transforming into a bat. Wings flapping rapidly, the white-furred creature flew up through the crevice. Van Helsing was worried though. He didn't doubt that Adrian would be back, but it was the point of how much time they had. Dracula most certainly could move about in the daylight, and so long as they stayed out of the sun, his brides could do the same.

* * *

"Why didn't you kill me!" the giant's voice rang. He was now chained to the seat in the coach, precautions so that there would be no surprises from him. Van Helsing hated to do it to the poor man, but Adrian had insisted when he had returned.

His answer was clear and simple. "I'm not a murderer," he replied calmly.

"Why didn't you leave me alone then?"

That was an easier question to answer. "Dracula's servant, a werewolf, saw you in that cavern. It wasn't safe anymore." He paused a moment, looking outside and trying to calm his nerves. "I'm taking you and Anna to Rome, you'll be safe there."

"This is not wise. By exposing me, you have condemned me...me and _all_ of humanity."

It was true what Frankenstein's creation said, but given the situation, it was the only choice. "Perhaps, perhaps not," was the reply Van Helsing gave. "But it's the best I could do under the circumstances." He looked at the creature for a moment, studying him. "If I might ask, what name would you prefer I call you by?"

The creature was speechless. He had been asked what name _he_ wanted to be known as? Surely, no one else would have given him the chance to choose a name. But, there was only one name he could assume, to honor the man who had given him life. "You may call me by my father's name," he said, a touch of pride in his voice. "Frankenstein."

He nodded. "I'm..." There was hesitation. For seven years, he'd gone only by the name Van Helsing, but never once had he seriously tried to take on a name of his own. But ever since this mission, since he had met Dracula, he was starting to know who he was. And his instincts told him that there were things Dracula had not lied about. His identity was one of them. "Gabriel...Gabriel Van Helsing."

There was an odd warmth in him. For the first time, just with those words, Van Helsing felt like he knew who he was. A sense of completion, though not total, but it was something. He had a name, a sense of being. Most important, he was regaining who he was, and it had been that name which sparked it.

The patchwork man looked to Anna, who, having accepted that this being was no monster, gave a curt nod. "Anastasia Corvinus."

"This is a very bad idea," Frankenstein said, looking to the man in black. "You're a dangerous man, Gabriel Van Helsing. A _very_ dangerous man."

"I get that a lot," he replied.

Frankenstein rattled the chains of his confines, testing them almost. "You don't trust me," he growled.

"Nothing personal," Van Helsing replied, trying to calm the man. "It's just, I don't trust _anybody._" There was a moment of silence, but Van Helsing had questions that couldn't wait. "You talked about your father, but you were _created._"

He nodded. "By Doctor Victor von Frankenstein," the man stated. Again, there was pride in his voice, pride and honor for a man who was obviously held in great respect by this marvel of science. "I was assembled from the bodies of seven different men. My father had discovered the secret to life, and under Dracula's influence, created me." Frankenstein stopped. It was obvious the recalling of events pained him. "But father's intentions were _noble_, even with the influence of the count. On the night he awakened me, he realized Dracula's true plans, and tried to protect me, save me from that horrible beast."

Pain was very evident in Frankenstein's eyes, and Van Helsing could swear he saw tears running down the pale cheeks. "Dracula murdered him," he continued. "For defying his control and wanting a good life for me."

Truly, noble intentions twisted for evil. "If this all happened the night that you were brought to life," Van Helsing asked, seeking answers to questions his mind now dwelled on, "how is it that you know about Dracula, and how you were created? For that matter, how is it you can speak?"

"The parts that my father used to build me had lived before," Frankenstein replied. "I have no memory of those lives, but I can speak, and I can read." He hesitated, not sure if Van Helsing could understand the reason why he knew the events of before his awakening. "Yet, while my father created me, I had a connection with him. Our thoughts were shared, minds linked, even before I lived. After he died..." Frankenstein paused. It was obviously painful for him to remember still. "I went back to the castle and retrieve his notes and journals, read them in the cavern where you found me. It was then I burned them, so that Dracula could not use them for his purpose. My father was under Dracula's influence when he created me, but make no mistake, Gabriel Van Helsing. He was a great and noble man, and his work had noble intent."

The reverence in Frankenstein's voice when speaking of his creator touched Van Helsing. There was such dignity in the creature, despite his odd form. It was truly remarkable. He had lived before, yet he held none of those memories. Humans wanted him dead, Dracula wanted him for something far worse, and yet, all the poor being wanted was to live a peaceful life.

Soon, they approached Corvinus Manor, and Van Helsing could see Carl waiting anxiously outside for him. Before the coach had even stopped, Van Helsing leapt out, walked over, then gave Carl a nod. "What is it?"

Carl was about to answer, then was fixed on the sight of Frankenstein just as Anna got out and closed the coach door. "Is that a man?" he asked, most unsure what to make of the creature.

"Seven men, actually," Van Helsing answered wryly. "Parts of them anyway." He quickly went into a brief explanation of Doctor Frankenstein and his creation, as well as what had happened at the castle the night before. Carl nodded in satisfaction, then informed Van Helsing the results of his research, as well as the events in the city when the vampirlings had suddenly expired. There was no problem Van Helsing saw with accepting it; he'd seen stranger things, after all, in the last seven years.

"They seemed to be made of a mix of things," Carl said, explaining what he'd discovered from disecting the vampirling corpse. "Animal parts, what looks to be some kind of black fluid for their blood...I'm suspecting that he some how created them from his flesh and that of his brides."

Van Helsing nodded. Frankenstein had confirmed as much on the ride here. "That would probably be why he calls them his children." He sighed, wishing that this mission wasn't so complicated now. But, it was the way things went. He walked back toward the coach, Carl beside him. "So what of this poem? What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure," Carl replied. "But I'm sure that it may hold some clue to defeating Dracula, and the other one may tell us how to find him. I still haven't figured out the meaning."

This wasn't going well already. Still, they had a plan, and it hopefully would work in protecting Anna and Frankenstein. The trouble was getting to Rome with little trouble from Dracula and his minions. That was where Adrian's horses and coach would hopefully come in handy.

"Transylvanian stallions," the _dunpeal_ remarked while petting the lead steed softly. He glanced to Van Helsing and grinned. "No land-based creature in the region is faster, not even a werewolf." Again, there was that spark in his eyes, and he patted Van Helsing on the shoulder. "Anything else, and you're on your own, Gabriel."


	12. chapter 11

Van Helsing drove the team of six horses through much of day and well into night, traveling the road for three days now. Adrian had not been exaggerating at all about the stallions; they were not only fast, but possessed tremendous stamina, galloping well into darkness.

In those three days, he'd had little sleep, keeping watch for signs of Dracula's minions, but so far, they'd been lucky. No doubt that luck would not hold for long. But despite the lack of rest, Van Helsing felt as if he'd never been better. He was more alert, more full of strength, and his senses were almost on fire with sensitivity. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn they were the signs of _lupus_ venom. But the increase in abilities was something he had become accustomed to, ever since he was starting to regain his memories. At least, he hoped they were indeed his memories. If he was to trust the visions which were now becoming clear, then he was no mortal man, having to be at least as old as Dracula.

On the fourth day, he pressed on at full speed, hoping that there was still enough of a breathing space between him and Dracula's reach. Adrian had said that the stallions were faster than even a werewolf, but he'd noted in that creatures who were bound to land. The brides had no such trouble, so it worried Van Helsing that _they_ could outrun the horses.

* * *

Frankenstein growled as the coach bounced wildly on the rough road. He looked to Anna, then managed to calm himself. No doubt his anger was frightening this child. "Let me go," he pleaded. "Let me fight, let me die! But don't let me be taken alive by Dracula!"

There was a bump, and Frankenstein was thrown forward at Anna, who barely managed not to scream. At the last instant, the chains caught and he halted, now still. "Let me go," he begged.

She gulped. "Where will you go to?" she asked. "I don't know if you've looked in a mirror lately, but you kind of stick out in a crowd."

* * *

A sound caught the attention of his ears. Glancing back, Van Helsing was sure he saw one of the brides giving chase in the air. It was only a matter of time before they had figured out what was going on and caught up. Still, he'd at least hoped for a smoother journey. Now, that easy passage had ended. He'd destroyed one of the brides in Tirgoviste, true, but he held no illusions about that; he had been lucky.

He looped the reigns onto a catch of the seat and picked up his crossbow from where it rested next to him. There was a sharp _click_ as he adjusted the firing setting, and his eyes looked warily about for any more signs of the brides. The eerie silence of the forest was disturbed only by the pounding hooves of the stallions, which was setting Van Helsing even more on edge. They were hunting him, and he knew it.

There was a rush of movement, and as he spun around to take aim, Van Helsing saw Verona only an instant before she grabbed him by the arm and lifted him into the air. The crossbow fell from his hand, crashing to the ground and left behind while the coach drove on.

Fighting with the claws that held him, Van Helsing grabbed hold of Verona's left wing and pulled down, stunting her ability to keep aloft. She fought with him, struggled against his grip, then finally let go of his arm, sending the man falling toward the earth. But, either by extreme luck or divine providence, he landed squarely on the back on the lead horse, almost none-the-worse for wear.

Looking ahead, he saw that things had just gotten much worse.

"Bloody hell."

Just ahead, the path ended at a collapsed bridge. The coach would never make it, even if the horse crossed the jump successfully. With a grunt, Van Helsing turned and leapt back toward the coach, landing on the back of each set until he jumped to gain hold of the driver's seat.

One of the vampires swooped down and struck him. Van Helsing went backwards, flipping in the air and landing in the couplings that connected the stallions to the coach. He held on tightly; if he fell, he was dead. But he knew that the bridge was coming up, and he would not be able to get back up to the coach in time to turn it. It was all in the hands of fate now.

The horses were speeding up. Even they were preparing to make the jump, Van Helsing tightened his grip, then felt the ground leave from under them as the stallions leapt across the bridge and went flying through the air. The jolt gave him enough momentum to fly up out of the couplings, and as the horses began their landing, he went forward through the air, landing on the back of the rear left horse while the coach crashed against the jagged edge of the bridge and broke away from the coupling. Van Helsing looked back just in time to see it fall backwards into the ravine, spiraling downwards.

* * *

The brides screamed out as they watched the coach break away from the horses and plummet down into the canyon. Verona took the lead, diving toward the carriage while Aleera was not far behind. "We must not let the creature be destroyed!" she cried, racing to catch up with the coach. They were so close now to realizing the Master's plan, realizing his dream of more than four centuries.

She reached for the coach, claws digging into the wood and allowing her to hold on. Aleera attempted to do the same, but she had caught too much of the wind in her wings, and she hovered just out of reach, spinning about. "Save him!" she cried just before she was swept skywards. "Save the monster!"

Verona held tightly, moving to the door and gripping it. In moments, she would recover Frankenstein's monster, to preserve Dracula's dream, his vision of the world. With a gleam in her eyes, Verona tore the door from its hinges and looked inside; the coach was empty.

"_What!_"

Wait, something was there with her. She looked about, then gasped as Adrian moved into her vison, his eyes steeled with anger. "Good-bye, Aunt Verona," he hissed, then transformed into a cloud of mist and allowed himself to be caught in the air currents.

She gasped, releasing the coach and trying to fly up. But something was wrong. There was pain, and though she tried to heal it, nothing happened. Verona looked down and saw the oak stake that was driven deep into her chest, through her heart. Her body even now was failing her, rotting away, and the carriage crashed upon the ground to explode just as she hit.

* * *

Van Helsing saw the red-headed bride rise back up from the ravine, and it was obvious that the other, Verona, was still down there. When he saw the cloud of mist rise up and transform into a large white bat, Van Helsing smiled. The resulting explosion sealed all doubts of the death of Verona. The boom was incredible; Carl was definitely onto something with that glycerine.

_That's two,_ he thought. Maybe now they would have an advantage.

A minute later, he saw the identical coach tear out of the forest from another path. Perched in the driver's seat was Carl, who was gesturing nervously for Van Helsing to hurry. He steered his own mounts toward the other carriage, keeping pace, then leapt to the buckboard and climbed into the driver's seat alongside Carl. The expression on his face told all about his pleasure in the trap they had laid.

A heavy breathing told him of danger. Van Helsing was quick to realize that his original suspicions about the flight speed of the brides had been right as his eyes caught sight of the werewolf coming down the road toward them. "Shit!" he hissed. He and Carl both swung about the side of the coach while eight hundred pounds of enraged fur went flying over the team of stallions and crashed into the buckboard, knocking over the front lanterns onto the roof and igniting it on fire from the kerosine.

Carl was hanging from the side of the coach, a precarious enough position to be in, but Van Helsing was in an even more dangerous spot. He'd missed the side of the buckboard and barely managed to grip the stair-piece, now dragged against the road at top speed.

He could hear Carl cry for aid from Anna. No doubt, the man didn't realize just how bad Van Helsing's situation was. Suddenly, his hand slipped from the steps, and he grabbed the front axle just in time. However, now he had the rear wheel spinning madly between his parted legs. If he lost his hold this time, he was finished.

"Anna!" Van Helsing cried, banging on the door.

* * *

The girl could hear Van Helsing's cy for help even as she held tightly to Carl, who was clinging still to the side of the coach. There was something else wrong; it was getting warmer.

"I can help!" Frankenstein exclaimed, a look of desire to aid in his eyes.

Again, she gulped. "You...you won't kill me?"

His expression was almost offended, but the man could not blame Anna for her fear. "No," he said. "But if you don't hurry, then _you_ will have killed Van Helsing!"

* * *

Van Helsing winced in pain. Suddenly, he felt a jolt as the axle piece began to break away from the underbelly of the coach. It couldn't hold his weight, not for much longer.

Another rivet broke lose, the axle bending. Another, and then, it snapped, sending him skidding at the wheel.

It never hit.

Van Helsing could feel a strong hand gripping him, and only one person in the coach had that powerful a hand. He looked up and saw the smiling face of Frankenstein, then was lifted from the ground and tossed back into the driver's seat while Anna helped Carl swing back around.

Anna breathed with relief sat back down, looking to the creature - to Frankenstein - and smiling to him. He truly was human after all, despite his form and how he had come into the world. But then, her eyes spied something large moving across the rear window, something that roared.

"Velkan," she whispered in horror.

The roof split open, unleashing the flame above into the coach. Frankenstein was now pushing himself as low against the seat as possible to escape the flame, screaming in fear, a fear that was beyond just normal reaction.

* * *

Looking back as the coach re-entered the forest, Van Helsing could see the inferno consuming the coach, and the werewolf rose up from the flames as if it were emerging from the fires of Hell itself. Without a second thought, he turned to Carl. "Jump!" he ordered.

The man didn't argue, and Van Helsing saw the coach doors open to release Anna and Frankenstein as they too made their escape. Now, it was just him and the werewolf.

Drawing one of his guns, Van Helsing aimed at the couplings and fired, causing them to break and let the horses ride away freely. His delay in attacking, however, gave the werewolf the chance to prepare, and just as he swung about to fire, it swat his hand viciously, sending the revolver crashing to the ground. Van Helsing inwardly cursed himself for not having targeted wisely, then suddenly was struck by either inspiration or madness. He leapt forward, feeling a powerful force in his legs that sent him crashing into the werewolf. The creature went flying from the coach, hitting the ground and rolling away. Van Helsing waited a moment, then leapt from the coach, hitting the ground and feeling a hard thud.

The coach finally began rolling, tumbling over a precipice and sailing down into the ravine.

* * *

Shaking her head, Anna staggered to her feet. She had expected Van Helsing to jump from the carriage with Carl, but she had seen him stay on just a bit longer to let the horses get away. After that, she wasn't sure what had happened, but there was fear growing in her heart. What if the beast had killed him, or worse, managed to bite him?

She stepped out into a clearing, looking for any sign of Van Helsing or the others. Surely, Carl and Frankenstein had to be around here somewhere.

"Van Helsing!" she cried, eyes looking around fearfully. If the werewolf was still alive, it was a foolish thing to do, but she didn't think much before she had called out for her companions. "Carl! Adrian!"

"Anna!"

Van Helsing. She turned around at the sound of his voice. She saw him running for her, and though he appeared to have several bruises, there was no sign of bites on him. Anna began running toward him, then halted when, almost from thin air, Aleera appeared.

"Hello, _Anastasia_," the red-headed bride of Dracula hissed just before she backhanded Anna. The girl hit her head on a nearby rock, and was out cold when Aleera transformed and picked her up.

Van Helsing raced to save the girl, but was too late. Aleera was already carrying Anna away through the air, flying over the edge and away from the forest. He skidded to a halt, breathing heavily while inwardly berating himself for losing Anna. He had failed his mission to protect her. And now, Dracula had half of what he wanted.

There was a low growl, one that Van Helsing recognized. He was not in the mood for this, but there was no way to avoid this fight with the wolfman. Turning to face his _lupus_ foe, Van Helsing pulled off and threw down his coat. No doubt, he was going to die, but at least he was going to give the beast one hell of a fight. "Alright," he spat while the werewolf stepped toward him. "I've had enough of this!"

The beast leapt forward, and Van Helsing dove aside, suddenly surprised by his own inhuman speed. He'd never been this fast before, it was on par with the creature he faced even now. Already, his body was feeling stronger, _much_ stronger, and as he moved again to avoid being struck by the _lupus_, his mind realized when it all had started; his memories.

Something told him that it was still, even now, possible to save the man trapped in the beast, to save Velkan Valerious. But deciphering that would have to wait. The creature turned about, flashing its claws menacingly at Van Helsing, while he was weaponless, armed only with his hands and his newly emerged speed.

And the strength he could feel growing.

It ran at him, but with a sharp grunt, Van Helsing ducked under the massive paw that was swung at him and landed a solid blow into the werewolf's ribs. There was a resound meaty _smack_, and the creature roared in pain. Another blow produced a similar sound, and Van Helsing finally realized the truth about himself, or at least, his standing in the world, in the realm of nature and the supernatural.

He was _not_ human.

Even as he ducked and weaved about to avoid his enemy, Van Helsing was visited by visions, memories that told him the truth, revealed to him what he was. He could see himself standing at Masada, fighting the Romans. The horrible battlegrounds of the Crusades, standing in Jerusalem in the battle against the Moors. The Ottoman invasion of Walachia, bloodstained fields as people were hanging from pikes and spears.

And he saw now why Dracula knew him, why he had recognized that face, why he was so familiar with this place despite no memory until know of his life.

He had been the one who killed Dracula.

His eyes began to burn, glowing with power as the werewolf swat him back. Van Helsing crashed against the ground, vaulted back just as the creature made another attack, and pulling off his gloves, finally accepted that he was no mortal man, possibly not even human. He was a part of the supernatural order, something that had the power to fight evil in all forms, be it man or monster. And with this poor soul, he had a chance to save one who was in the horrible grip of darkness.

"Velkan!" he cried, hoping to reach the man in the beast. "Velkan, listen to me! You have to fight it, fight the monster you're becoming!" It was probably futile, but something in him said that it was possible for Velkan to be returned. That voice, the voice of his lost life, told Van Helsing that he had the power to save Velkan Valerious. And so, as the creature lunged for him, maw open wide to bite, Van Helsing moved like a blur and caught the werewolf by his jaws. Incredibly, he had avoided being bitten, and there was a sizzling sound as smoke began to rise from where his bare hands met the flesh of the werewolf. It bellowed out, pulling away while he let go, and the fur where his hands had been was singed.

It shook its head, glared at Van Helsing, and charged again. With a twist, Van Helsing leapt up and landed upon the monster's back, now grabbing it by the face and holding on while it howled painfully. But no matter how much it thrashed, he would no let go, determine to somehow save Velkan's mind, his soul.

The howls became distinct, and finally, Van Helsing could swear they were becoming words. He let go, tumbling off the werewolf's back and hitting the ground. It was holding its head, trying to ward away the pain, then finally calmed down and looked at Van Helsing. There was something different in the werewolf's eyes now. Serenity, calm, and then, realization.

"Oh God," the creature gasped, now able to speak and be aware of what it had been doing. "Oh God, what have I done!"

He got to his feet, cautious still, but he knew he had done it. The creature was able to talk, able to reason. It had a human mind now, and he had been able to save that mind. "Velkan?" he asked, slowly walking toward the werewolf.

It shied away, ashamed of itself for the things it had done in Dracula's control. "No!" it cried. "I'm a monster, you must stay away from me!"

"Velkan, listen to me!" Van Helsing yelled. He held his hand out, and while there were imprints from where he had held the jaws, there were no breaks. Velkan had not transformed back into human form, but his body was changing, looking more noble than monstrous. The truth dawned on Van Helsing. "You're not a monster," he continued, walking toward Velkan. "You're not cursed, you're a true werewolf, mothered by the moon...you're a _lycan_!"

The wolf stepped away, but there was confusion in his eyes. "A..._lycan_?" he repeated. His voice bore a heavy sound to it, not human, but still, a true voice that could speak human language. "But...I can't be. I was transformed by the venom of a _lupus_, _lycans_ are born werewolves."

Yes, that was true. But perhaps there was still an answer, and Van Helsing was sure he knew it. "Think about it," he said. "You have to have _lycan_ blood in your veins, it's the only reason you are now what you are. Maybe it was latent in your blood, maybe you weren't _meant_ to become a werewolf, but the _lupus_ curse brought it to life."

They heard Carl's voice cry out, calling Van Helsing's name. Moments later, Carl, Frankenstein, and Adrian emerged from the trees, and all three came to a halt as they saw Velkan's _lycan_ form. Carl's reaction was almost immediate, drawing out his revolver, but Van Helsing stood in his way, holding up his hand.

"No, wait!" he cried. He could feel Velkan moving away in fear, but he had to explain what had happened. "Carl, it's Velkan, he's in control of himself!"

The three stood there in shock, looking from Van Helsing to the werewolf. Adrian was the first to step forward, looking into the beast's eyes and seeing it was true; Velkan Valerious had been returned. "My God," he whispered, unable to believe it, but it was plainly true. "You're a _lycan_."

After hesitating a moment, Carl slowly put away his weapon, stepping over to Velkan and gazing at him in amazement. "A werewolf able to think and reason as a man," he said, still unsure if this was really happening. "But how? Van Helsing, how did you do it?"

"I touched him," the man replied. He wasn't quite sure what exactly the power he held was, but it had at the least retarded the _lupus_ curse, allowed Velkan's _lycan_ heritage to emerge. But something warned him that it wouldn't last forever. A more permanent cure had to be found by a certain time, the voice told him that much. He had until the New Moon.

His attention was brought to more serious and concerning matters; Anna. "We have to get down to Buda-Pesht," he said. Sure enough, the city was in the distance, where Aleera had flown to. "Dracula has Anna now, we have to save her."

"Anna!" Velkan roared. "That filthy beast of Hell! I'll-"

Van Helsing held up his hand. "You can't do anything until you learn to control your shape." He sighed, then held his hands up to Velkan's head again. "This may hurt, but I think it might help."

The werewolf held still while Van Helsing placed his hands on the sides of his head. There was a burning sensation, like poison being painfully purged from his blood. Slowly, but surely, his body shrank, not shedding fur, but retracting it, pulling the hair into his body. The bones of his legs reshaped, his muzzle pulling in and taking human appearance.

And finally, Velkan Valerious stood before them once more. Van Helsing stepped away, allowing Velkan to recover, then noticed that the man had no clothes to wear save the tattered remained of his trousers. "Get him something to wear," he said. Adrian nodded and flew up in the form of a bat. Now, they could go look for Anna.


	13. Chapter 12

Marching all through the night, by daylight, the quintette of Gabriel Van Helsing, Carl Seward, Adrian Tepes, Velkan Valerious and Frankenstein had arrived in Buda-Pesht. Split in half by the mighty Danube River, the city was nestled in a lush valley, and even from a distance, it was a sight to behold, magnificent as it was ancient. Founded by the Romans at the beginning of Christendom, Buda-Pesht retained much of its history in the appearance of the city. Ancient towers and battlements of the castles, towering spires of churches, all interspersed with modern homes and palaces.

Van Helsing also found himself marveled by the giant at his side: Frankenstein. He did have a very pronounced limp, owing to the heavy metal leg brace on his right leg, but he seemed to possess near-inexhaustible energy. They entered the city, though _staggered_ would have been a better description. Velkan was now dressed in the clothes Adrian had acquired for him, though his eyes still bore the feral gleam of a wolf. Frankenstein kept his hood on to cover his face, but his imposing size made him stand out regardless.

Van Helsing pulled his coat tight over himself, trying to keep out the cold. Suddenly, a blast of wind hit them, and Van Helsing quickly drew out his remaining revolver when he saw the scantily clad form of Aleera descend to a nearby roof.

The vampire bride waggled her finger and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth disapprovingly. "So much trouble to my Master," she said. "So much trouble."

She wasn't here to fight, he could already see that much. A disappointment, because Van Helsing would have liked to finish things with the last of Dracula's brides, and no doubt Velkan would have liked to have a battle with this spawn of Hell. He noticed Frankenstein already moving, and held his hand against the giant to stop him. Now was not the time. "What do you want?" he asked instead, opting to keep his calm.

"The Master commands a trade," Aleera replied. There was a gleeful light in her eyes, one that Van Helsing did not like the look of. "The monster." Frankenstein growled at that reference to him. "And the _dunpeal_." Adrian now glared. "For the princess."

As the two beings of mystical birthing and impossible sciences glared at Aleera, Van Helsing already knew there wasn't much choice, not right now. "Somewhere with lots of people," he said. Now Adrian and Frankenstein were staring at _him_. He ignored it, he could explain things later. "Somewhere that your master will be less inclined to show his...other side."

Thinking this over, Aleera's eyes suddenly lit up like those of a little girl, giggling madly. "Tomorrow night is All Hallow's Eve," she said. "Here in Buda-Pesht, there is a wonderful masquerade ball!" She hopped up to a position higher on the roof. "I _love_ masquerades! Vilkova Palace, midnight!"

With another whoop, she leapt away, vanishing behind the roof in a blast of wind and snow that told the group she had transformed to her demon form. Van Helsing growled and holstered his gun. It was then than Frankenstein struck him.

"How can you agree to such a thing!" he roared. He looked to Adrian, and the _dunpeal_ nodded his agreement. "It is madness!"

"That is my cousin we're talking about!" Velkan snapped back angrily. "I respect your life, your humanity, but she is an innocent child! I will not allow her to be claimed by Dracula!"

This was getting ridiculous. They really believed that Van Helsing was going to just trade two of the most vital parts of this whole situation away to Dracula? Clearly, they didn't have as much faith in him as they'd originally shown. With a sigh, Van Helsing drew out his revolver and fired into the air. It was enough to bring silence to the three arguing men. "Would you three knock it off!" he yelled, clearly annoyed. "First off, I can't believe _you two_." He glanced to Adrian and Frankenstein while holstering his gun again. "You really think I'd agree to just hand you two over!" Now looking to Velkan, he frowned. "And do you really think that Dracula is going to uphold any bargain he makes? If so, then you're not the smart man I took you for!"

"But then what _do_ we do?" Frankenstein said. The worry in his eyes showed all too clearly. He was worried for Anna, just as much as he worried for the safety of not just his own life, but the lives off all humanity. "We have no way to just kill Dracula, and you-"

He gave the giant an angry gaze. When Frankenstein promptly went silent, Van Helsing inwardly thanked the heavens. Right now was not the time for fighting, it was the time for planning. And as much as he hated to do this to the giant again, it had to be done to keep him safe. "I am sorry."

He withdrew the steel expandable blowgun from his coat. Frankenstein looked at him, a note of betrayal in his eyes. Van Helsing couldn't stand that look. He quickly opened the blowgun and blew into it to fire a dart. He loathed this aspect of his mission now, and his only consolation was that in the end, it would work out.

* * *

They had to hire a cart to move his body, throwing a canvas over it to keep suspicion to a minimum. After purchasing new clothes, all attire for attending the impending costume ball, as well as a few other things they needed, the four men drove the cart with Frankenstein out to the cemetery near the palace. After a bit of searching, they found a mausoleum that would serve their purpose and waited there.

Van Helsing took the chance to change into his costume, a vaguely royal suit of black clothes, with a large hat and a very spacious cloak in which to hide some of his equipment on his body. Velkan wore a similar costume, his attire being a royal red rather than black, and missing the hat. Carl, oddly, had chosen to dress as a jester. It was a clash with his personality, but perhaps that was why he had done so. Adrian looked much as he did normally, though clad in blues and purples instead of black velvet, it was a startling change. The masks they would wear would hide their eyes, helping them to blend in and not be immediately recognized as gatecrashers.

Now hiding Frankenstein in the mausoleum, the four exited and prepared to head for the ball. Carl was still fussing over his costume while Van Helsing such the doors behind them. "I'm sure this is some kind of sin," he muttered while adjusting his coatpiece.

"God will understand," he replied sardonically while he and Velkan picked up the broken piece of a tombstone that was in the shape of a cross and set it on the doors to hold them shut. "Besides, how many commandments can we have broken in one day?"

Carl was fooling with his jester's hat. "You don't think this hat is a bit much, do you?" he asked while looking back at his companions. When Van Helsing gave him that look, he realized he was rambling again. "Sorry. We should be worrying about Velkan." He glanced to the _lycan_. "If the books I had brought with me are right, then the _lupus_ venom in your blood is only temporarily retarded, not purged. You have until the New Moon to find a way to reverse the curse, and even then, like your original transformation, you have until the final stroke of midnight before Dracula regains his hold on you."

"Sounds like I have nothing to worry about then," Velkan replied.

"My God, you should be terrified!"

Van Helsing groaned. And they said that the professor was lacking in tact. "Thank you," he muttered while picking up his hat and leading the way to the palace. "We still have nine days to find you a cure, Velkan. Knowing our luck, we'll find one."

As the four men began to head out, Carl glanced back at the mausoleum. "Are you sure he can't get out of there?" he asked, a bit worried.

"Not without some help from the dead!"

* * *

Frankenstein awoke to darkness. His head hurt from the drug, but then again, he was still alive, something of a surprise. Did Van Helsing actually mean to trade him for the girl? But then, why was he alone, here?

Trying to adjust his eyes to the dark, he could see little details due to the small amount of light that was shining in, but it was enough for him to gather where he was; a mausoleum, a place of the dead. What was Van Helsing thinking? Surely he didn't intend to make a trade. Did he plan to trick Dracula?

Either way, it was a very dangerous game that Van Helsing was playing. He had to get out of here, but his limbs would not respond. Only now, he could barely move his head. But, after enough concentrated effort, he was able to move his hands.

He could not afford to wait helplessly where he was. Dracula was powerful, and though Van Helsing was certainly courageous, he was still only a man. Or was he? He had rescued the human mind of that werewolf, made him human again. Was Van Helsing human, even mortal? No, he clearly was not. Nor was he anything that Frankenstein had ever heard of before.

He heard something; a scraping sound, like a rusted hinge opening. One of the tombs was opening.

Frankenstein was not alone.

* * *

They stood before the ornate door of the palace that was twelve feet tall and covered in gold. _And this is the back door,_ Van Helsing mused. He glanced to his companions, noting the apprehension in their eyes. Clearly, like him, they were not so sure about what little of a plan he had formulated so far. Still, none of them had come up with any better ideas.

The door swung open before them as if by a spell. Van Helsing took a step back, then saw the servants opening the door from the inside. For a second, he was concerned that they would ask to see an invitation, but they simply smiled and bid them welcome. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared.

Inside, it was lavishly decorated, the floors intricately detailed, the walls covered with tapestries and gilded moldings in the shape of crowns. The furniture was antique, and Van Helsing could recognize several periods of European history. People came and went through the hallways, most donning masks and costumes, though some merely wore dark robes. No doubt, they were some the richest in Hungarian and Romanian nobility. The entire scene smacked of incredible wealth, and decadence.

The quartet followed the crowd toward two great doors which swung open as they neared. Inside was a massive grand ballroom that was filled with revelers. At least they would be able to remain anonymous in this sea of hidden faces.

There was an orchestra playing, along with a vocalist who seemed to have an amazing voice. Gypsy performers, jugglers, trapeze artists and high-wire acrobats - a very peculiar scene indeed. But then again, Van Helsing had never been to a masquerade in Buda-Pesht before. At least, not that he could remember.

"Well this is different," Carl observed while gawking at their surroundings.

Yes, it was different. That was what bothered him. "Dracula must have something up his sleeve," Van Helsing stated. He turned to Adrian. "Try and find us a place where we can get a good view of everything."

The _dunpeal_ nodded and vanished into the crowd. Meanwhile, Van Helsing could see Velkan looking around, his nose sniffing about. "Something wrong?"

He nodded. "Can't you smell it?" Velkan asked of Van Helsing.

With a frown, Van Helsing inhaled the air, then nearly paled. Yes, he found what Velkan meant, and that was frightening him. His senses were becoming on par with a _lycan_. "Dear God," he whispered. "I can smell everything." Carl looked at him, not understanding. "Warm pretzels, the fresh punch, juniper bushes, ladies' perfume...and rotted flesh." There were undead nearby, no denying it. Dracula and his bride could not be far.

"Well, you two certainly know how to ruin the mood," Carl quipped sullenly.

* * *

Anna could feel herself floating. She was at a party, a grand one. She had not been to many parties in her life, but it was wonderful. No monsters, no fears, no death... There was only dancing. She was dressed in a low-cut red gown, a shining tiara in her hair, and she was gliding across the floor, twirling about in the arms of her dance partner.

Yes, there was a man there. He was good to her, he was her...master. No, wait, this was wrong. No one, man or woman, was her master. She was Anastasia Corvinus, the last of the Corvinus, descended from Matthias himself. The dream shimmered around her, threatening to pop and disappear.

The man in the dream kissed her, and she awoke...into the arms of a hell spawn monster. The beast that her family had hunted for centuries...and they were dancing. Few of her blood had been this close to Dracula, and none had lived. He looked to be about thirty years old, and his face would have been handsome if not for the vile monster that she knew lay beneath. His eyes were red like blood, cold and lifeless. And she became aware of an awful taste in her mouth, thick and coppery, like blood.

A horrible feeling came over her as he spun her on the dance floor, dipping her down. "How does it feel to be a puppet on my strings?" he said. He could see the fear in her eyes, the realization that he had fed her his own blood. "Little more than a doll in my hands?"

"I won't let you trade me," the girl replied defiantly. Revulsion filled her. Not only was this beast holding her so close, _touching her_, but he had infected her with his vile blood. She tried to struggle, but Anna found that her body would not respond.

He chuckled, moving her across the floor in time with the other dancers in the ball room. "I have no intention of trading you," Dracula hissed. The desire in his voice was impossible to hide; he wanted Anna for his true Bride. "And if I know Gabriel, which I do, he isn't planning to make a trade either." He pulled her close, their lips almost touching. "Neither of us have ever settled for half...my Lisa..."

Now she understood why he wanted her so badly. Adrian had said it many times himself; she looked just like Elisabetha Corvinus, Dracula's beloved wife and Adrian's own mother. "I am _not_ Elisabetha," she stated firmly. "I may look like her, sound like her, but I am not your wife." Pausing, Anna let him see her disgust. "You make my skin crawl."

"That," he replied in a seductive tone, "is not all that I could do with your skin." Dracula stood behind her now, gently stroking her neck. He moved in closer, and she could almost feel his teeth on his neck. One bit, and it would all be over. She wanted to pull away, but an urging in her mind wanted her to just give in, one moment of submission for unending lifetimes of power. His blood was already in her, she would become like him now unless he was somehow destroyed. _No!_ her mind screamed. He was doing something to her, trying to bend her mind to his will.

* * *

The view from the second-floor balcony was much better than being on the dance floor. Down there, it was crowded, making it hard to search, but from up here, the four men could see everything clearly. Van Helsing managed to spot Anna and Dracula instantly. They were dancing down there. The implications chilled him. Dracula desired to make Anna his new bride, and he had no doubts that the count would honor no trade. From all appearances, though, she still looked to be human. Such was a blessing of luck.

"Anna!" Velkan hissed as he saw his cousin in the hands of the vampire. "I'll tear that spawn of Satan apart if he harms even a hair on her!"

Yes, the feeling was well understood. "Something's wrong," Van Helsing muttered.

Carl was the first to reply. "Yes, they're both trying to lead," he remarked.

He glanced to the man, then shook his head. Even in such a serious situation, Carl's wit had to make itself known. "Not _that,_" he snapped. "The fact that she's still human. Dracula should have transformed her already, he's holding off for some reason."

Looking up, he noticed that trapeze artists were just on level with the balcony. In fact, one them took a momentary break at the side of the balcony. Eyes looking onto the high-wires, he finally had an idea of what to do. This was going to prove interesting.

"Velkan," he said. "I need you to do something for me."

"I'm not going to like this," the Valerious nobleman replied. "Am I?"

* * *

As they spun about, Dracula whispered in Anna's ear, his voice soothing. "Soon, Anastasia," he said. "Soon, you will be my true Bride. Aleera will teach you well, to serve me in all ways, and you will learn to love me." He smiled, his fangs visible. "You shall become my beloved Lisa once more, and then, all will be perfect."

She fought against his control, the effort of battling his will showing on her face. Her struggle seemed to amuse him, and Dracula turned sharply and angled her downwards while facing a large mirror. "Don't we make a lovely couple?" he asked.

There were no reflections at all save her own. Dracula of course had no reflection, but the other ballroom dancers... "Oh my God," she gasped as she realized what was going on. In the mirror, it looked as if she was dancing by herself, spun about by an invisible force. "This whole place..."

The count grinned, basking in her fear. "All it takes is one moment of pain," he said, drawing her close. "And we can be together, forever."

She tried to push away, tried to fight him off, but his will was too powerful. "You...you have no heartbeat," she whispered, stating what was obvious, but all the same, the words had to be said.

He pressed her down, bending her backwards while he ran his hand through over her chest, fingers slipping through the gap between her breasts. "Perhaps," the count whispered as his eyes blazed with light. "It just needs to be...rekindled." He leaned in for a kiss, but as much as she tried, Anna could not turn away. She could feel the air change, and she knew that Dracula had tired of this game they played. Any moment now, he would bite into her neck, drain her dry, and then...she would become a monster.

* * *

The trapeze artist swung through the air, released his trapeze, and did a flip before grabbing the one his fellow artist had left. His hands gripped tightly, and he swung to reach the platform on the balcony. He was surprised that someone was waiting there for him, and he didn't get much of a chance to react before Van Helsing laid him on the ground with a solid punch to the head.

And then, Van Helsing was swinging through the air. He could see Velkan and Adrian down below, making their way through the crowds. Finally, the two supernaturals were close enough to see Dracula and Anna. Even they could sense that something was going to happen, and Velkan quickly pushed his way through the crowd.

A nearby fire-eater tilted his head up and prepared to preform his trick, now lifting the torch to his mouth. Velkan angrily shoved his way through and gave him a strong hard push. The fire-eater stumbled forward, blowing fire out onto Dracula just as he was about to bite Anna's neck.

Van Helsing let go of his trapeze just as the other artist swung by, and use the momentum to carry him in reach of the other trapeze. He grabbed hold, made the swing, then let go just as it went halfway and pulled out a tojo while turning about. It was now or never, and his hand reached for the high-wire, tojo spinning to life and cutting the cord to send him swinging into the crowd.

Dracula pulled away from Anna, yelling furiously as he turned and grabbed the fire-eater. With a grunt, he flung the man, sending him at least a dozen meters into the air. Van Helsing braced himself, knowing that his was perhaps the most dangerous part of this plan. "Adrian!" he cried. "Now!"

The _dunpeal_ appeared from the crowds, grabbing hold of Anna and rocketing in a diagonal path upwards toward the balcony. A light blue stream of light trailed behind him, and as Adrian landed on the second-floor, Van Helsing dropped the tojo to grip the wire with both hands, and brought his left foot slamming into Dracula's head while his momentum brought him back to the balcony himself.

Adrian shook the girl, trying to bring her out of the trance while Van Helsing walked over. "Anna!" he cried. "Snap out of it!"

She shook her head, finally free of Dracula's control, then hastily peeled off the jewelry that was on her. She almost had the urge to tear off the red dress, but Anna quickly realized she had nothing else to cover herself with. She looked to Van Helsing, then to Adrian, her eyes filled with gratitude, but also fear. "He's infected me," she said. "He gave me his blood, I'm infected!"

That was why Dracula hadn't transformed her yet. He didn't intend for her to just be any bride, but his one true Bride, the one he would pass a part of himself into. Van Helsing was more concerned with the fact that she was indeed still alive; they had a chance to save her.

"Oh Gabriel..."

He turned and walked back over to the balcony, looking down on the dance floor. Everyone was staring up at them, waiting for something. And then, Dracula stepped out into the cleared circle. He looked up toward the balcony, and smiled. "So pleased you could make it, Gabriel...welcome to my summer palace."

Everything had just gone to Hell.

"Victory!" came a cry. From a side door that was flung open, a group of undead entered the ball room, and at their lead was that twisted man named Igor. He was almost strutting, his pride pouring from his face. And on the table they carried was Frankenstein. He was chained down like an animal, screaming angrily.

"Curse you wretched undead!" he roared. "Though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death, I shall fear no evil! You are all damned fools, and damned souls! And you will burn in the flames of Hell!"

He took back his original assessment. _Now_ everything had just gone to Hell.

The count laughed, turning once more to look toward the group on the balcony. "Now that everything is as it should be. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you..." He raised his hand toward them, presenting his foes and his desire to those present. "_Van Helsing!_"

The people removed their masks, mouths stretching open wide to reveal the monstrous fangs while their skin became pale gray. The whole party, every single guest, they were all _vampires_. "That explains the damn smell," he muttered under his breath. He could heard Anna screaming, and with a grunt, he grabbed her by the hand. "Let's go!"

"What about Velkan!" Adrian replied as they fled. Even now, the vampire horde below was racing to chase after them.

Anna's eyes lit up. "Velkan?" she said, looking to Van Helsing. "My cousin...he's still in that beast!"

"He is the beast!" Van Helsing stated. They ran down the hallway, racing to find a way out, but so far there was no sign of a window or anything of the sort. "Velkan's a latent _lycan_, the venom he got from the werewolf bite triggered his transformation, but we have to find a full cure to purge the _lupus_ curse from him."

There, ahead. A stain-glass window. He pulled Anna toward it, then at the last second noticed something strange about one of the images; a saint that was holding up a hand as if to say "Stop!" Instincts screaming, Van Helsing skidded to a halt. "My mistake," he exclaimed, now leading Anna and Adrian down another hallway. "Wrong window!" He could smell the stench of decay and corruption.

The vampires were behind them, he could sense it. Making a series of turns in attempt to lose the undead, the trio raced up a flight of stairs and through a set of double doors. Van Helsing and Adrian bolted the doors shut behind them, Gabriel grabbing Anna by the hand again and pulling her along down the hallway.

A loud pounding came from the door, and at that moment, Carl came out from an adjacent corridor to stand before another stain-glass window, the magma contraption from the armory in his hand. "Now I know what it's for," he exclaimed excitedly. "Now I know what it's for!" He paused, now confused as to the three rushing people. "Um, where are we going?"

"Through that window!" they cried in unison.

Carl took the second he had to turn the top of the device, spilling the liquid alkali into the magma, then set it down just as Adrian grabbed him. Together, the four jumped and smashed their way through the window just as the double doors were thrown down to the ground. There was a high-pitch sound, and then, a brilliant burst of light, along with a burst wave of force that shattered every window in the palace. A moment later, along with the raining shards of glass came pieces of the flash-burned vampires.

The quartet fell down and crashed into water. Now several feet under the surface, Van Helsing fought back up, reaching the surface and breathing in while he saw his companions breach. He looked up, grinned, then turned to Seward. "Carl, you're a genius!"

There was pride on Carl's eyes, and he nodded while keeping afloat. "A genius with access to unstable chemicals!" he replied. Now that he knew what the damned thing had been for, Carl was sure to make more. That little contraption was one hell of a weapon against vampires.

He heard something. A heavy breathing, along with animalistic grunts. There was no mistaking that sound; it was Velkan. Van Helsing turned to see the _lycan_ emerge from a lower level window, leaping down into the river and swimming toward them while shifting back to his human state. "Well done!" he commended. "For a moment, I was worried we'd lost you!"

"Nothing would keep me from protecting Anna," the man replied, now hugging his cousin tightly. The girl was bursting into tears, unable to believe that she had her cousin back. "I'm so sorry, Anna."

Both Velkan and Van Helsing turned at that moment. A longboat rolled down a stone ramp way on wheels and hit the water, manned by a dozen or so of those terrible Dwergi while Igor sat behind Frankenstein, shouting orders. The giant was tied to the mast, and there was a sad expression on his face.

Without a glance to his companions, Van Helsing swam after the boat. The Dwergi dropped the oars and began to row. It was a race, Van Helsing saw, and he began to swim faster, trying to catch up. The longboat was moving rapidly though into the main river. As they passed through the large archway, a huge gate began to drop down behind them. Van Helsing could see the misshapen little man mockingly waving at them, patting Frankenstein on the head. He shouldn't have been able to hear the horrible man's words, not at this distance, but they were as clear to him as if they had been said to his own ears.

"Say good-bye to your friends," Igor whispered to Frankenstein. "Because where we're taking you, only God and the Devil know!"

Van Helsing tried to will himself to go faster. It was going to be close, so very close...

And then the gate slammed shut in front of him, cutting him off from the boat. It was only a short distance from him, but to Van Helsing, it may as well have been a league away. Frankenstein's face was a mask of depression and sorrow, filled with hopelessness. He was a man who had been hunted by humanity, only to fall into the hands of something much worse.

Adrian swam over, determined not to let his father's servants get away, and gripped the bars with his bare hands. Smoke rose from his skin as a burning sound could be heard, and then he screamed out in pain, pulling away to reveal horrible burn scars on his palms. He plunged them into the water, trying to ward back the pain. "Iron!" he cried. "Damnation, that hurt!"

Van Helsing's attention was on Frankenstein. He was falling his mission now at every turn, he could not let this end in such a way. "I'll find you!" he yelled out. "I find you and set you free, I swear to God!"

There was a rush of wind, and Van Helsing could hear Dracula and Aleera laugh as they flew off toward Tirgoviste. Carl made his way over, Anna and Velkan not far behind. It seemed hopeless now, but Van Helsing would not, _could not_ give up. "I have to save him."

Carl had a look of guilt on his face now. Something was wrong, Van Helsing could see it. "I should have told you," the man finally said. "I cabled Rome earlier while you and Adrian were obtaining disguises, to apprise them of the situation."

There was anger and fear rising in his heart. The hairs on the back of Van Helsing's neck rose, as he had a bad feeling he knew where this was leading. "What did they say?" he asked.

"Even if you somehow kill Dracula..." Carl hesitated. He knew that Van Helsing was going to be furious with this. "Jinette orders you to destroy Frankenstein as well."

Fire burned in Van Helsing's eyes. Not figuratively, but almost literally. "He isn't evil!" he roared. He was seething at this order, it was against everything he fought for. "He is an innocent soul, a creation of God, no matter how he was born, and I cannot kill him!"

Carl gulped. He had known this was how Van Helsing would react. He knew the man's code well enough, and he was right; Frankenstein had done no wrong, committed no sin. Rome regardless insisted that such a being could not be human. But they hadn't met Frankenstein, they hadn't seen the pure humanity in him.

"I left Velkan out," he finally said, glancing to the two cousins. "And I did not tell them about what's happening to you. I agree fully with you, we cannot kill Frankenstein." Carl again paused, breathing deeply. "This is what the professor always talked about, following what your heart says and not the man with the funny hat."

If not for the gloom of the situation, Van Helsing would have laughed. But there was no time for this, they had to get back to Tirgoviste, and fast. He looked to Velkan, to Anna, and then to Adrian. These people more than anyone knew the importance of ending this war which had raged for more than four hundred years.

"We must hurry."


	14. Chapter 13

As they raced back toward Tirgoviste, Van Helsing found himself frightened by how much he was changing. His senses were alive with power. He could hear everything, smell everything, and his eyes could see even the most hidden creatures. There was no denying that with the emergence of his memories, his body was transforming into something. He had given Velkan back his mind, given him a chance to regain his noble humanity. All the signs pointed toward the fact that he was a soldier of good. Clearly, whatever Van Helsing was could not be a creature of darkness.

He had not slept in over a week now. Four days they had been riding, and yet, even with the few stops they made, he could not rest. He was far more alive than he had ever felt before, his visions increasing at an alarming rate. Now he could see clearly the fields of battle, the faces that he fought, and the judgements he passed upon those who would plunge the world into darkness. But the one thing that kept eluding him was that vision of lights. There were voices, that powerful presence, but it would not reveal itself to him. It was like, he would learn when the time was right.

Van Helsing looked to Velkan. He knew the horrible fears that the _lycan_ was going through. Once the bell tolled midnight on the New Moon, he would be lost again, and this time, Van Helsing was sure that he could not be given such a gift again. But, they would find a way to save him, they still had five days to do it. It was the least he and Carl could do.

And Frankenstein. Van Helsing knew that he _would_ save that poor creature. If there was one thing that Van Helsing would do, even if this assignment was the final task he did, he would preserve Frankenstein's life. That was his ultimate mission; to protect innocent life. All the loyalties to the Templar, all his objectives, they meant nothing when compared to that creed. Of course, it would surely make Cardinal Jinette furious. Just one more extra bonus to it all.

And then, there was Dracula.

If they could destroy that monster, it would do more than Van Helsing had originally thought when this mission had begun. Killing Dracula would make sure that Anna and Frankenstein were safe, it would free Velkan from the vampire's command, and Adrian would be free from his haunted past, the shadow of his father which had always plagued him. Of course, the rest of the world would be saved, but Van Helsing found that his world had grown much smaller in the last few days. To him, _these_ were the people that mattered. He would fight so that an innocent man might know peace, so that a noble being of nature might be free from a curse he did not deserve, so that a young girl might see her family finally attain salvation, and so that a tormented soul might be free of the horrors that followed him over the course of four centuries.

Fighting and dying for those things would not be so hard after all.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at Castle Frankenstein. Van Helsing and Velkan raced into the fortress, the _lycan_'s predator senses seeking any sign of their prey. Nothing. Van Helsing could feel the corruption in this place, but he could feel no presence of Dracula, his bride...or Frankenstein.

They hurried into the tower, taking the stairs two and three steps at a time. But when the group arrived in the lab, what Van Helsing had already feared was confirmed; it was empty. All the equipment was gone, and from the looks of things, Dracula and his minions had cleared it out in a hurry.

"They must have taken everything to Dracula's lair," Carl reasoned, dread in his voice. "We're too late."

Van Helsing growled. It couldn't be over, not now, not like this. He had been fighting this battle too long to just give in to failure. His hands grabbed a piece of machinery that had been left behind, then, displaying his now powerful strength, flung it back at the wall where it crashed into the rock. "I won't let it end!" he cried. "Dracula can't bring his spawn to life until after sunset, there's still time!"

"_Time!_" Adrian hissed. He pointed out to the sky, noting the lowering sun. "The sun sets in less than an hour, and we've been looking for Dracula's lair for centuries!"

"You didn't have me around during those four hundred years," Carl interjected.

* * *

They returned to Corvinus Manor. The sun was still shining, trying to fight against the encroaching night, and so far, it was winning. But eventually, the night would win, and it would be perhaps the darkest night the world had ever known.

"So what have you learned?" Van Helsing asked of Carl. Gathered in the library, the five could see the results of Carl's research. Books were scattered about on various tables, along with ancient artifacts and relics.

He began to explain, picking up the book of genealogy and opening it. "Dracula was Vlad the Third, son of Vlad Dracul, and lieged by Matthias Corvinus, whose sister he married in fourteen sixty-eight." He pointed to Adrian. "_Your_ mother."

"Everyone here knows that," Adrian retorted. "What else?"

"Oh, right." Carl moved about, moving to an old rubbing and lifting the piece of paper that he had used to show the lower image. "According to this, it all began in fourteen sixty-two, when Dracula was killed in the fields of battle"

Velkan looked at the image. "Does it say who killed him?" he asked.

Carl shook his head, but then gestured to the upper segments, which consisted of paintings of angels. "No, just some reference to the left hand of God."

Van Helsing felt it. That flash in his mind, memories coming back, and he saw the vision of Dracula's death. He had been the one who killed Vlad the Impaler, he knew that, but now, there was more. He could see once more that place of light, the voices, and now, he saw something else. Black feathers, wings curling around him, and then, he could see the earth approaching him, like he had been sent out of that realm. He was remembering now _what_ he was, and it had something to do with the 'left hand of God.'

"And according to this," Carl continued, now holding an elaborate Latin text, "when Dracula died, he made a covenant with the Devil, and was given a new life."

"But the only way he could sustain that life was by drinking the blood of the living," Adrian finished.

Carl nodded, moving now to a large painting of Matthias Corvinus. "Exactly. Now, your uncle, having supported this horrible creature and brought him into his household, went to seek forgiveness. That's when the oath was made. He was to kill Dracula, and in return, he would assure eternal salvation for the entire bloodline, right down to Anna."

"But he couldn't do it," Anna chimed in. "No matter what my ancestor did, he couldn't kill Dracula."

There was a confirming nod. "And so," Carl continued. "He, with the help of a holy warrior, banished Dracula to an icy tomb, through a door from which there was no return."

Obviously, it hadn't been so. "And then the Devil gave him wings," Velkan stated.

"Alright," Van Helsing said impatiently. "So where's this door?"

Now Carl was silent. He sighed, his face filled with depression. "I don't know. But when Matthias couldn't killed Dracula, he left clues so that perhaps Adrian could, with the help of future generations." He pulled out the book in which he had the found the poems and opened it up to the marked passages. "Here it tells about a pure soul who is half-damned, and something about the blood of the son." He turned the page again. "And here it speaks of the view of the world, a gate to the tomb of ice."

"A view of the wor-" Van Helsing stopped in mid sentence. Now it all made sense. "A _map_." He stepped toward the large painting, now realizing what it meant. "You said that Nicholas and Richter would stare it this painting for hours, trying to find Dracula's lair," he said to Adrian. "I think they were right. Quite literally, this is the door! They just didn't know how to open it!"

"But if this were a door," Adrian replied, walking up to the map painting, "We would have opened it years ago!"

"Van Helsing!" Carl cried. "Come take a look at this!"

The man stepped over and knelt down to see what Carl was looking at. Along the left-hand side of the painting was a Latin inscription, but at the bottom was some kind of niche, about an inch in diameter. Imprinted was the symbol of a dragon. Now, it all was clear. "You didn't have _this_," he said, pulling off his ring and showing it to Adrian.

"Where did you get that!" the _dunpeal_ said in shock. "That is the family signet of my father!"

He gave no answer. Instead, Van Helsing broke the ring piece from the signet and placed the seal into the niche. He then looked at the Latin text, and stood. "In the name of God," he said to the map. "Open this door!"

At first, nothing happened. But then, a thin line of frost built up, crackling across the map like a growing fracture. It grew in size, washing over the painting like a windswept wave until the painting had vanished completely. In its place was a large mirror of ice. Their reflections were shown distortedly, and then, Van Helsing noticed that, oddly, Adrian's reflection was transparent. No doubt, it was an effect of his vampire blood.

"Dracula has no reflection in a mirror," Velkan stated as they gazed at the wall of ice. "So why a mirror?"

Carl frowned for a moment. "Maybe," he began, glancing to Adrian. "Maybe to Dracula, this isn't a mirror."

Van Helsing took a deep breath. Pressing his hand against the frosted glass, he could feel it pass through, the surface of the mirror cracking into pieces of ice around his arm. "It's cold." He shivered for a moment, then pulled his arm back to reveal snow on his fingers. "And it's snowing."

Without a second thought, he stepped back and grabbed a torch from a nearby wall sconce, then moved to enter the mirror. He glanced to Anna then. "Someone should stay here with her."

She instantly hissed, and he could see the curse in her blood was making her angry and powerful. With a yell, Anna slammed her fist into a table, snapping it half, but there was no injury to her hand. No one could deny it; the infection was getting stronger, and so was she. "I won't sit here and wait! I want a part of this, I _need_ to be there!"

"Anna-"

Adrian raised his hand to stop Velkan. He glanced to the girl, studying her, then nodded. "No, she's right. We should not make her sit here. If nothing else, she must come so that the curse Dracula has put on her may prove to have a use for good."

The matter was settled then. "See you all on the other side," Van Helsing stated, then walked into the mirror...

...and stepped out into a billowing cascade of snow. He had come out of another mirror that was like the one in Corvinus Manor, save that this one was built into a large black obelisk. Anna and Velkan stepped through a moment later, followed by Adrian and Carl. Together, they all looked up at the towering medieval fortress that seemed to have been spat up from the black rock of the mountain.

_They don't make them like they used to_, Van Helsing thought, but then again, they had _never_ made them like this. The scale of the castle was massive, with spires and battlements that dwarfed anything they'd seen before. The foundations of the fortress seemed rooted in living mountain, the three main towers sprouting from the black rock as if the entire structure had been formed from the stone instead of built. Even the bridges that connected the towers looked roughly formed, giving the idea that perhaps this place had not been built by man, but in fact spewed up by the dark forces of nature.

"Castle Dracula," Adrian whispered.

They began walking toward the main door. The battle they faced would be met head on, not sneaking around. The massive entrance was made of iron, rusted shut and covered in slippery ice for good measure. More so, they already knew that Adrian could not touch this door, for the iron, just like last time, would burn him. There was a transom, a hundred feet up and well out of reach.

Carl was the first to speak then. "Do we have a plan?" he asked, glancing around to the other members of the group. "Granted, it doesn't have to be Wellington's at Waterloo, but some kind of strategy would be nice."

Van Helsing's answer was blunt and to the point. "We're going to go in there and kill Dracula."

"And anything else that gets in our way," Adrian finished.

"But how do we get in there?" Anna asked.

Velkan answered for her. He growled, his body looking to be caught in a partial transformation to his _lycan_ form, and he picked the girl up into his arms, leaping from point to point until he reached the transom, then dropped down into the castle.

There was a smile on Van Helsing's face. He nodded to Adrian, then grabbed Carl by the back of his coat and suddenly, in a single bound, leapt all the way up to the transom. Adrian was not far behind, having transformed into a bat, and when Van Helsing landed inside the castle, he noticed something falling in his wake; black feathers.

"Since when did you keep raven feathers in your coat?"

There was no way Carl could know how wrong he was. These feathers were something that had appeared when he made that incredible jump. A solid suspicion was growing in Van Helsing's mind, of who and what he was. But until that last memory revealed itself, he couldn't be sure, except of the fact that he was not human.

They were in a massive foyer with high walls, massive pillars, and impossibly high up ceilings. This place had obviously been design for a man not bound by gravity. And covering much of the surface of the interior walls were thousands of cocoons with wires protruding out from each one; Dracula's spawn.

"Are all of those..."

"Yes."

"And inside each of them are..."

"Yes."

Carl visibly paled. "Dear God," he whispered. "The world will be a smorgasbord if all those things hatch!"

Noise. "Igor do this, Igor do that!" Someone was coming. Velkan had already shifted his gaze, and Van Helsing turned to see Dracula's servant walk out from the corner carrying a large bundle of wires and electrodes. The twisted man skidded to a halt the moment he saw the group, unable to believe that they were standing before him. "How did you find...is impossible!"

He dropped everything in his hands. But before Igor could run, Van Helsing pulled out his remaining tojo, snapped out the blades, then threw it hard in the perfect angle to catch Igor by the sleeve and pin him against the stone wall.

"Please! Please don't kill me!" Igor begged as Van Helsing approached.

This was actually amusing. "And why _not_?" he asked. Igor was quiet for a moment, obviously trying to think of a good reason. He was about to strangle the horrid man when Frankenstein's roar of anger could be heard nearby. It was coming from a window right next to Igor. Van Helsing stepped over and looked through the metal bars to see Frankenstein below, imprisoned in a large block of ice, with only his neck and head free. It was a cruel and unusual form of captivity, and Van Helsing had no doubt that the poor creature was suffering greatly.

A horrible screech came from above. Igor grinned from his place against the wall. "My Master has awakened," he whispered.

The pulley and chains connected to the block of ice began to move. Within moments, Frankenstein began to rise upwards.

Anger, righteous fury, overtook Van Helsing. He dropped his torch and grabbed hold of the iron cell bars. For a moment, he wasn't sure just how strong he'd become, but when the bars began to bend and implode in his hands, he understood that at the least, he was on par with a _lycan_. But then, he gasped, his strength strained. It was hopeless.

Frankenstein continued to rise, and Van Helsing could do nothing save watch. But as the man came eye to eye with the group, he looked to Velkan, and there was something else in his eyes now; sympathy, and a hope. "There _is_ a cure."

"What?" Velkan said in shock.

"Dracula has a cure to remove the curse of the werewolf!" Frankenstein continued. He looked down now as his icy confined rose up higher. "Go! Find the cure and save yourself!"

That was what Van Helsing was looking for. Frankenstein was truly human, putting the life of another before his own. _I was right to come for him,_ he thought.

But something now was bothering him. Yes, Dracula had a cure, but why, that was what he needed to know. Obviously, the vampire lord did not have the same problem other undead did with the venom of a _lupus_, so why need it? "Why does he need a cure?"

"I don't care!" Anna exclaimed, now pulling her cousin along.

Velkan saw, however, that Van Helsing was right. "I do," he said, looking to his cousin, then to Igor. He stepped over, grabbing the man by the neck and pressing in hard. "Why does Dracula need a cure, the bite of a _lupus_ does not harm him!"

"The _lycans,_" Adrian said, realizing it. When everyone looked to him, he explained. "My father, before my mother died, was working on a cure for _lupus_ venom and _lycanthrope_. When he turned completely against all living things, he must have kept the cure as a way to make sure the _lycans_ did not interfere with him."

"A way to make them into normal humans," Van Helsing realized. "Take away their birthright." And they had a way to save Velkan. Van Helsing walked over and pulled the tojo free, then took Igor from Velkan's hold and looked into his eyes. "You're gonn'a take them to the antidote."

"No, I'm not."

Van Helsing snarled, pulling Igor along and slamming him against a piece of fallen pillar. His eyes now were showing fire in them, literally, and Igor was shaking in fear as he realized just how much he was mistaken to think Van Helsing a simple man. "Yes, I am!" he said to correct himself.

Satisfied, he turned to his companions. "Adrian, you and Carl go with Anna to find the cure. Velkan, you're with me."

"Are you insane!" Anna exclaimed in reaction. "Velkan needs the cure as soon as possible, he should be going with us!"

True, that was logical, but Van Helsing had his reasons. "I need Velkan with me to help fight Dracula," he replied. He glanced to Igor. "Besides, I'm sure that our friend here will not be so quick to anger his master's _son_." He smiled now, for once allowing himself some sadistic glee. "And if he doesn't cooperate, have Adrian bite off one of his fingers."

"My pleasure," the _dunpeal_ confirmed.

Igor was quite well terrified by now. "It's in Mephisto's tower!" he cried, pointing to the left. Van Helsing then pressed down on him. There were three towers, and he didn't have time to search them both for Dracula and Frankenstein.

"And where's Dracula! Where's Frankenstein!"

Igor groaned, acting as if this wasn't worth his while. When he noticed something push up under the back of Van Helsing's coat, however, he quickly lost all sense of composure and panicked. "Ba'al's tower, we reassembled the laboratory in Ba'al's Tower!" He smiled, showing his crooked teeth. "Would I lie to you?"

Pulling the man up by his collar, Van Helsing snarled angrily. "Not if you want to avoid the wrath of God," he hissed, then turned and flung Igor into Carl's waiting arms. He looked to Adrian for a moment, then nodded. "Adrian, God knows I need your help up there to fight Dracula, but you need to help keep that thing under control, and to watch out for Anna."

"I'll join you as soon as possible," he replied. He, Carl, and Anna headed for the left tower, led by Igor who was now scared completely by conflicting thoughts of what would happen if he helped these people versus what would happen if he _didn't_.

There was a grunt from Velkan as he watched his cousin depart, and he gave Van Helsing a pondering look. "Are you sure we can do this?" he asked as they headed for the right set of stairs. "If it turns out that this cure can do me no good..."

"It will," Van Helsing replied. He couldn't let either of them think negatively right now, or they definitely wouldn't make it. And if they failed, the whole world would suffer.

* * *

The massive black iron doors swung open, and Dracula stepped into to the newly assembled laboratory. He watched as the Dwergi put the finishing touches on Victor von Frankenstein's equipment. The creature that the late doctor had created was now on the pod, not only strapped down, but bolted as well, and he was screaming angrily at the Dwergi, something about 'foul vermin from Hell.' It amused Dracula that the monster would have no idea how right he was.

"What are you complaining about!" he snapped as he walked over. As if in response, the entire laboratory sparked to life. Great arcs of electricity flowing up and down the walls between the dynamos. "This is _why_ you were made; to prove that _God_ is not the only one who can create life!"

The creature merely gave a stonic expression of defiance. Dracula hissed, then nodded to the Dwergi to raise the creature. _So typical of the living,_ he thought bitterly. _Always thinking of only their own existence...Except my Lisa..._ The monster didn't understand nor care that he was to be the catalyst which would begin a new era, but surely, Elisabetha would have understood, supported him in this. And for the crime of their brethren, all humanity would pay, torn apart into seas of blood, as his age rose from the ashes of the old world.


	15. Chapter 14

Velkan and Van Helsing raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time, then three. For the _lycan_, it was a personal mission, to stop Dracula if only so that his cousin's family could rest. A noble cause, to be sure, and he was not concerned much about himself. Such were qualities that renewed Van Helsing's own faith in humanity.

They were close, Van Helsing could sense it. Dracula was near...and so was Frankenstein. But at this rate, they might not make it in time to stop Dracula from bringing his creations to life.

Near the great spiral staircase was a large gash in the wall. Van Helsing stopped, looked to Velkan, then ran over to the fissure and looked through. They were about halfway to the laboratory, and below was a drop that when down for at least fifteen-stories. High above were flashes of light and the sounds of machines. They didn't have far to go.

"Can you climb fast?" he asked, glancing to his werewolf ally.

"Give me something to ascend upon," Velkan replied, now transforming into his powerful _lycan_ form. "I shall conquer it."

His confidence was now rising with the courage of his companion, and Van Helsing leapt through the gash and grabbed the chain that hung down there. Velkan pushed his way through the crack, now scaling the rock face of the shaft while Van Helsing was pulling himself upon the chain. Some of his weapons fell out of his coat, but that didn't matter to him. They would be of no use in the battle ahead, he had only one weapon that might actually cause real harm to Dracula, and he carried it within him.

He continued to climb, his pace rapid as his hands became like a blur. Nothing about what he was turning into, what he truly was, could surprise him now. Nothing else mattered except to destroy Dracula and save all those who suffered from his existence. Even finding his own past meant nothing now.

And soon, he would have his battle.

* * *

Igor led the trio of Anna, Adrian, and Carl through up stairways of the tower. Clearly, he was conflicted between his loyalty to Dracula and his fear of his master's son. On the one hand, if he continued to help them, then Dracula was sure to kill him if he found out. On the other hand, if he didn't help them, then Adrian was definitely going to kill him now. Fortunately, the desire to risk a possible punishment and have a chance to making it out of this situation won out. As it had turned out, with a little prodding, he could move quite fast when he wanted to - and when his life depended on it.

They reached to the top of the stairway where they saw an arched doorway. And behind it lay salvation for Velkan. In the center of the room was a pedestal, upon which was a large sphere that looked to be made of crystal. A large physician's syringe with some kind of red liquid was suspended within.

Anna almost ran inside, but a look from Adrian made her stay. She had lost her cousin once already, but gotten him back thanks to Van Helsing, she didn't want to lose him again. It was best to stick together and play it safe.

Igor was about to enter the room, but Adrian held out his hand and pushed the man back. "I'll go first," he hissed. He could see the contempt in Igor's eyes, but that didn't matter. They could not risk him ruining everything. As he and Anna stepped into the room, they could see that the doorway they had entered through was the only way in or out, for the windows were barred shut, no doubt with iron. From Dracula's perspective, that made this room easy to defend. From theirs, it meant less chance of an unpleasant surprise.

There was a yell from behind them, and the two descendants of Corvinus turned to find that the nasty surprise they'd hoped to avoid had occurred regardless. Carl was sent sprawling on the floor from a push by Igor, and the twist man took his chance to pull a lever when dropped down a black gate. He laughed as they ran over, Adrian grabbing the bars only to pull away the moment they started burning his hands; iron.

"Stay as long as you like!" he said tauntingly. He could see the frustration in Adrian's eyes, the helplessness; iron was his bane. Such a good thing that this castle was laced all over with the stagnant metal. "You try to get Igor, but Igor get you!" And he headed back down the stairs, laughing all the way.

Adrian roared out in anger. "Damnation!" he cried. He grabbed the bars again, screaming in pain as the iron burned him, but still, he tried forcing the gate open. Finally, he let go and stepped away, holding his hands against his body. "Dracula must have counted on the chance that I might find this place, that can be the only reason there's so much iron here."

"Can't you just transform to mist and pass through?" Carl asked. It seemed the most logical method to use.

Adrian shook his head, now walking over to a large pile of snow and plunging his still smoking hands in. "Iron is the bane of _dunpeals_," he explained, still trying to force down the sensation of pain. "It is stagnant, unchanging, a symbol of death. For the _dunpeal_, that which is a life born from that which is dead, it is our weakness. We are something that defies the natural order, even more than a vampire."

He breathed heavily, now withdrawing his hands from the snow. Burned into his palms were the scarred imprints of the bars, physical proof of the effect iron had on the _dunpeal_. "We have to find another way out of here."

* * *

They were very close now. Van Helsing could hear the equipment accelerating and recognized the sounds from the count's previous attempt to bring his vampirling creatures to life at Castle Frankenstein. Now, however, with his inhumanly sharp senses, he could identify every minute change, and could even discern the footsteps of the Dwergi as they scurried about.

Both man and _lycan_ emerged from the shaft, silently climbing up and hiding behind a large generator. Van Helsing looked around for any sign of Frankenstein, then saw Dracula. The count was shouting orders to the Dwergi, and thankfully was oblivious to their presence. With a glance to Velkan, he could see the man was barely holding his rage. No doubt, Velkan was ready to run out and attack Dracula now.

"Stay hidden," he ordered, while moving toward a wall. "I need you to go around and meet me on the roof."

Nodding, Velkan hurried away, now a blur of motion that moved from place to place. Van Helsing had to admit, Velkan knew how to stay out of sight. But right now, he had more important things to worry about.

Now scaling the sheer face of the wall, Van Helsing made his way upwards. It should have been impossible for him, but he knew that he was no mortal man. He was becoming less human with each memory that returned, yet he felt more filled with humanity at the same time.

With a grunt, he raced up a pillar, then turned his head to see a Dweger on the scaffolding, one that saw him. Leaping from the column, Van Helsing landed on the catwalk and grabbed the Dweger, slamming it head first into the wall. When he pulled it away, he could see that the blow had broken its goggles, and the large pure white eyes of the troll were visible. It snapped its teeth at him, and Van Helsing flung the Dwerger through a nearby window, sending it falling to its death.

"Kill it before it does worse to you," he said in an echo of Adrian's own words.

* * *

Together, Anna, Carl, and Adrian stared at the globe and the syringe inside of it. "Go ahead and grab it," the girl remarked to Carl.

"You go ahead and grab it," he replied indignantly. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's never be the first to stick your hand in a viscous material." He glanced to Adrian, then gestured to the globe. "Uh, you go ahead and grab it."

The _dunpeal_ snorted. Like Carl, he was no fool. While his ability to heal was superhuman, he could not regrow limbs if he lost them, and there was only so much his power to heal could do in a short amount of time. This fortress was supposed to be impenetrable, after all, meant to keep Dracula in. It only made sense that Dracula would keep the antidote for the _lupus_ curse in a fashion that only he could retrieve it from.

A chill went down his spine. Adrian felt a presence just seconds before they heard a vicious hiss from behind them. The three moved to the other side of the pedestal while Aleera dropped down and flipped to land on her feet. "Did I scare you?" she asked in delight.

"Not in the least," Adrian snapped back in reply. He drew his sword, letting Aleera see the silver and gold gleam in the torch light. When she merely laughed, his expression when dark. "You still desire me after all these centuries, don't you?"

Now there was a reaction from the bride. "How could I not?" Aleera replied, moving about while the trio stepped in turn to keep the pedestal between them. "So much like your father, Alucard. Yet, at the same time, you have the love that I seek, the heart that I wish to feel returning my passion."

The _dunpeal_ scowled. It was bad enough that Aleera had been after him before, but to refer to him by a name which he detested _and_ compared him to his father...that was something he could not forgive. "I'm afraid you misjudge me," Adrian hissed. "I'm _nothing_ like my father."

With that, he pushed the globe, causing it to shatter upon the stone floor while the liquid contents sprayed upwards against Aleera. She grabbed her face as the fluid burned her, proving Carl's suspicions correct.

"Viscous material!" he exclaimed pointedly. "What did I tell you!"

The syringe rolled away on the ground, causing Anna to stare at it. "Grab it, grab it!" she cried. Carl quickly ran over and pulled off his coat to use it for grabbing the injector. The cloth began to burn, but not enough that it was eating through to Carl's hands. Anna took the chance to pick up a large piece of the shattered globe and scooped up some of the acid. Heading for the gate, she splashed it on the bars, and the fluid did its work quickly as the iron bars melted away in seconds. She turned to Carl and Adrian, noting that Aleera was still howling in pain. "Hurry!" she cried, waving for the men to get out of there. "We have to get the antidote to Velkan!"

Carl was the first to head out the gate, Adrian right behind him. As Anna was about to exit, she was grabbed form behind and turned around violently by Aleera. The vampire was glaring at her, her face horribly burned, but even now, it was regenerating. "You can't go until I say you can go!" she screamed.

"Keep going!" Anna cried. She saw Adrian move to help her, but she knew he couldn't afford this delay; he was the only one who had the ability to make sure the cure got to Velkan. "Don't worry about me, I can do this!"

He stared for a moment, then, realizing that the girl had to do this on her own, nodded and pulled Carl along down the stairs. He hoped that he could get back to Anna in time later, but she was right; this was her fight.

Aleera hissed, her face completely healed now. Her hate for Anna was painted all over her face, pure hatred and jealousy. "And I say you can go," she spat, gripping deep into Anna's shoulder, "when you are _dead!_"

The girl felt the vampire curse burning in her. She felt stronger, more powerful, and if only just this once, she was willing to relinquish herself to its power. If there was one grave mistake Dracula had made, it was letting her live after giving her his blood. "I say I can go when _you_ are dead!" she hissed, her hand flashing up and slamming hard into Aleera's face. The bride let go, taken by complete surprise. Anna, however, backhanded her vampire foe, letting her growing strength take over and send Aleera flying back into the wall.

It was time that the last bride knew the wrath of the Corvinus.

* * *

Racing down the stairways, Carl held tightly to the syringe, Adrian right behind him as they hurried to find the bridge. Carl did the calculations in his head; in the time it would take them to get to the bridge, run across into the main foyer, cross the next bridge and go up the stairs of the other tower, it might be too late. Velkan was safe from the _lupus_ venom driving him into madness, but there was still the risk that Dracula might be able to get control of him yet.

_God favors the bold_, came the voice of the professor. So far, heeding Abraham Van Helsing's words had not steered him wrong once, and it was not time to doubt the great professor's wisdom. Certainly, Carl had been bold in his life, especially when he had chosen to stay with the professor and join the Templar. His ideas and theories had been radical, groundbreaking, and he had been at odds with the more tradition minded members of the order many a time.

Adrian was concerned as well as they ran out onto the ancient stone bridge that connected the two towers. It was six feet across, with only a knee-high railing to prevent them from falling over. With all the high winds whipping about, Carl was the one more at risk here. The weather was insane, unnatural; it could only be Dracula's work.

Carl stopped. As Adrian ran over, he could not see why the man had halted. "What's wrong?" he asked, then heard a creaking sound coming from the tower behind them. He looked back toward the tower and saw something moving in the shadows. It wasn't clear at first, but as the source of the noise came closer, he saw what it was. "He did _not,_" the _dunpeal_ said.

"He did," Carl replied with a resound groan. Standing behind them, now walking out of the shadows, was a massive suit of black armor which was holding a large broadsword in its hands. It was obviously animated by Dracula's black magicks, and from the rust that was crusted over the plates, it was no doubt made of iron, just like every other metal construct in this accursed fortress. That meant Adrian couldn't fight it.

Carl held the syringe out to Adrian. "Take it," he said. When the _dunpeal_ looked at him in shock, the man angrily shook it. "Take it, and go!" he ordered. As soon as Adrian had grasped the syringe, Carl reached to the back of his belt and pulled out his own revolvers. He opened the chamber and started loading a type of bullet Adrian had not seen before, then glanced to the prince. "We need to get that cure to Velkan now, and you're the only one who can make it in time!"

"That thing will kill you!" Adrian exclaimed in horror. Yet he could not help but admit that Carl's selflessness was encouraging. It was no wonder that Van Helsing trust this man with his life. "No bullet can stop that thing, even if it is silver!"

Carl gave his companion a sly grin. "These aren't _silver_ bullets," he stated, now locking the chamber of one gun shut and starting to load the other. He and Adrian backed away from the armor while it moved toward them. "They're explosive rounds, using the same premise as the shells I gave Van Helsing, but with glycerine instead of silver nitrate." He locked shut the chamber and gave it a spin before redrawing his other revolver. "One of these could blow a hole in the walls of the Bastille, I'm certain our friend will find them rather nasty to be hit by."

There was a moment of silence. Adrian reluctantly nodded and ran across the bridge, leaving Carl to face the metal nightmare that was fueled by Dracula's unholy powers. With a sigh, Carl raised his guns, ready to fight, and if need be, die to help save a noble man's soul. "Van Helsing," he whispered. "You're not the only one who can pack one hell of a punch."

* * *

He was close, so close to Dracula. It was close enough to leap forward and tear the count to pieces. Velkan had to resist the urge to let his bestial rage take over. Van Helsing needed his help to first free Frankenstein. But the temptation was so great.

Dracula looked up, stopped in the middle of shouting out orders, and Velkan realized that the count knew they were there. _Van Helsing_, his mind screamed. The count was turning now, toward where Van Helsing was climbing up the wall. There was no denying it; Dracula could _feel_ Van Helsing's presence. If he didn't do something now, the vampire was going to see Van Helsing and destroy their only chance.

"Anna," he whispered while his form began to change. "Forgive me." With a roar, Velkan transformed and sprang forth from his hiding place. Claws flashed out, and as he charged toward the vampire, he could see Dracula spinning to stare in shock.

Just as Velkan launched himself at Dracula, the count snarled and brought his hand up to catch the _lycan_. His grip was like steel, holding Velkan up and choking him. "Velkan Valerious," the count hissed while stepping forward and flinging the werewolf to the ground. "This is an unexpected surprise." He snarled, showing his displeasure at his servant not only having broken free of his command, but also at that fact Velkan was still alive. "I would have thought you to be _dead_, not scampering about to still seek revenge!" Dracula paused then, realizing something. Velkan looked different some how, his fur more silken and not so coarse. Something in his features as a werewolf. "You're a _lycan_!"

"Mothered by the moon," the werewolf growled, coming to his feet. "I may have the _lupus_ venom in my blood, count, but until the New Moon, my actions are my own to choose!"

For a moment, the vampire only glared. Then, he began to laugh, apparently finding some great joke in this turn of events. "So indeed they are, Valerious! However, you know well that you can't kill me, I am immortal! Even the touch of the sun does little more than to burn me!"

The _lycan_ roared angrily. Velkan fought to channel his rage, but minute by minute, the _lupus_ venom was starting to awaken again. Already, he could feel Dracula's will trying to dominate him, to take over his mind again. He'd kill himself before that happened. Velkan glanced up to Van Helsing. He had to buy the man time. "We know of your cure!"

There was a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, I would gather that is why you are here," Dracula replied. Good, he hadn't noticed. So long as he kept the vampire's attention on him, Velkan knew that this was the best thing he could do to aid Van Helsing. "I had wondered why I could feel Gabriel here. He must be in Mephisto's tower getting it why you fight me here." A smile. "How noble...and _stupid!_"

He launched forward, swinging a massive paw at the vampire, but Dracula simply changed into mist and reformed to deliver a vicious blow to Velkan's chest. The werewolf went flying back, hitting the floor and skidding for a good distance before he leapt back to his feet. The beast inside wanted this fight, thirsted for it, and right now, so long as he could be free to battle Dracula, Velkan was more than happy to indulge that thirst.

* * *

Hanging from the stone wall, Van Helsing stared down as he watched Velkan reveal himself to Dracula, engage the vampire king in battle. It was foolish, to be sure, but there must have been a reason the _lycan_ had done it. It was certainly serving as a perfect diversion, and if Dracula believed him to be in the other tower, then he had a chance.

A loud report caught his attention. Van Helsing looked down through a window and could see, on the bridge to Mephisto's Tower, a series of explosions, similar to the one Carl had made in the Templar armory with that fluid.

_Carl!_ his mind screamed as, his vision sharpening on the two pinprick figures, he could see his ally backing away from what looked like a magically animated suit of armor. So far, the man was holding his own, firing off rounds that were exploding against the armor's plates. Van Helsing had to admit, Carl's display of courage was unexpected, but not unappreciated. "You're a good man," he whispered. "I just hope that you make it out of this alive."

Now ascending the wall, Van Helsing reached the skylight and pulled himself up, feet firming planted on the stone roof. Lightning was crashing down around the castle, and so far, no bolts had struck the pod which held Frankenstein. he ran over to the giant, turning the flywheel furiously. "Are you alright!"

The giant registered what was going on at that moment. "What are you doing!" he cried. "You should be finding the cure for Velkan!"

"Our friends are getting it for him!" Van Helsing replied. He grabbed one of the straps, but his eyes then saw the bolts which were lodged into Frankenstein's torso. This was not going to be easy.

There was a look of amazement on Frankenstein's face. "Friends?" he asked, looking to the man who was struggling to free him, to save him.

"Yes," he quickly said, then glanced to the giant's face. "Want one?" He moved to twist out the bolts, but they were locked in tight. This wasn't going to be pretty at all. "I can't unscrew the bolts...this is going to hurt!"

The giant gave an understanding nod and braced himself. "I am accustomed to pain!"

"Let's you know you're alive!" With his powerful new strength, Van Helsing grabbed the end of the straps and pulled hard. The bolts were torn loose, blood now coming from the fresh wounds on Frankenstein's body. He could see the pain the giant was suffering, the urge to scream out, but Frankenstein did not give into that urge.

Before he could undo the other straps and restraints, a powerful bolt of lightning slammed down, sending Van Helsing crashing to the ground while Frankenstein yelled out in agony. Electricity cascaded over him, green crackles of energy building up before surging downwards into the lab.

He breathed heavily, getting back to his feet. With a groan, Van Helsing looked over just in time to see the energy surge. They were running out of time. "One," he whispered.

* * *

His face now bearing a set of deep claw cuts, Dracula grinned while the _lycan_ charged him again. He hadn't had a battle this furious in ages, and he would greatly enjoy enslaving this creature once more, breaking him to his will. "This is foolish of you!" he cried. Velkan only roared, but the vampire laughed at the rebelliousness of his werewolf foe. "You cannot kill me, and soon, you will be my slave again!"

"I will die before I become your servant!" Velkan spat, flashing his claws out. "And Van Helsing _will_ kill you, count!"

There was a dancing smile of amusement on the count's lips. "Please," he retorted stepping around the dead body of a Dweger who had gotten too close to Velkan. "He killed me once before, but he cannot do so again. Even God Himself cannot slay me!"

The werewolf bellowed again, jumping at Dracula only to be gripped once more by the throat. The count was actually tiring of this. He looked into Velkan's eyes and hissed. "As for you, _lycan_. Your cousin will soon be my Bride, and the world will be mine to reshape, but you sadly will not remain to see it!"

With a grunt, the vampire flung Velkan through a window. He could hear the howl, the anger, and he grinned while he saw the beast drop from his view. Even a werewolf was not invincible, and though he was bound to survive his fall some how, he could not do much more now.

A lightning bolt struck above, and Dracula could hear the screams of the creature as electricity rippled through it. A moment later, a massive surge of green energy flew downwards, coursing along the conductors and into the ground. As it hit the floor, the energy caused a rupture in one of the cables, sparks erupting all around as Dracula reveled in the coming of his age.

"Give me _life!_" he yelled out in triumph. He could feel the energy as it crashed through the stone, surged through the wires and routers. He could feel it as it entered his creations, giving them force, life.

And then, he saw something moving on the roof.

* * *

Twisting about in the air, he was falling, fast. Velkan roared, then managed to grip the outside walls. His claws dug deep into the rock, and he was still sliding downwards, but his descent slowed, and soon came to a halt. His mind was burning, desiring to get back into the tower and tear Dracula apart.

A loud explosion drew his attention. Looking out into the darkness, Velkan could see Carl trying to get away from what looked like an eight-foot tall suit of black armor. There was another explosion, the burst causing the armor to stumble back, but it persisted. Carl needed help, more than Velkan needed to get revenge.

There was a low growl, deep from in his throat. Now scampering along the walls, Velkan raced to help the human, knowing that he had to move fast. He launched himself across to the ramparts, hurrying toward Mephisto's Tower. Now within leaping distance of the bridge, Velkan pushed off and flew through the air, landing on the stone and howling at the unholy construct.

Carl turned, staring in horror for a moment, then realized that the werewolf was his ally. "Velkan!" he exclaimed just before firing one more round at the armor. "You're supposed to be with Van Helsing!"

"A change of plans," the _lycan_ replied. He strode forward, moving to help Carl and lashed out at the armor just as it was swinging down with its sword. The impact of his attack knocked the blade off course, causing it to crash down on the stone of the bridge. The armor slowly lifted the blade back up, and, reaching back, prepared to swing again. It seemed unstoppable.

_Lycan_ and man moved just as the sword descended. It crashed again into the rock, and Velkan swung hard to knock the armor away from its weapon. It stumbled back, hands empty, and the werewolf struck again, causing the construct to back away now. Still, if he let up for even a moment, Velkan knew that this thing would return the attack. He had to get rid of it.

Suddenly, his mind realized how. "Carl!" he growled, backing up and dodging just as the armor swung at him with a punch. "Do you have any more of those explosives!"

He opened the chambers, then nodded, locking them shut again. "One round left in each!" he cried. "What's your plan!"

The werewolf grinned and leapt back, landing just in front of the human. "Simple," he replied. "Blow up the ground under his feet and send him into the abyss!"

Velkan was right; it was simple. "Why the hell didn't I think of that?" Carl muttered while readying the guns. The armor came toward them, its simple mind thinking that Carl was going to shot it again, but then the man aimed downwards at the last moment and fired to blow open the bridge beneath its feet. The armor dropped like a rock, falling through the hole and vanishing into the darkness. Sometimes the best methods were the simplest after all.


	16. Chapter 15

Anna watched Aleera carefully as she walked toward the vampire. She was strong, yes, very strong now, but there was chance that Aleera was still stronger. Anna had to be careful if she wanted to live through this. But it would be well worth embracing the power she felt to finish this once and for all. "Why do you hate me?" the girl asked of her vampire foe. "Why so jealous, so angry? What did I ever do to you?"

"Don't play coy with me," Aleera hissed. She was furious, to be sure, that she had been struck so hard by one not even yet a vampire. Such power was obviously the touch of her Master, the effects of his blood on this mortal girl. "I know what lurks in your lusting heart." She smiled faintly. "You're just like all your other pretty little ancestors, saying you want to destroy my Master...but I know what you really want."

Yes, Aleera was jealous, jealous of Anna. Dracula made clear his desire for the girl, to make her his Bride, because she was an exact twin of his lost wife. Adrian had said it many times, informing Anna that she would grow into a beautiful woman who would capture many hearts. No doubt, Aleera saw that as well and was afraid.

And Anna found it hard to deny she wanted to play along. But sometimes, it was better to tell the blunt truth. "Yes, you do," she replied. "I want to see Dracula, withered and rotting in death, I want to drive a blade right through your black heart!"

She screamed, her voice nearly splitting the air. Anna took the chance and leapt up, grabbing a torch from its mounting before landing on the ground again. She swung it at the bride, but Aleera just blew out the flame and laughed. That was her first mistake.

With a grunt, Anna swung again, this time swatting the vampire in the head with a solid blow that cracked her skull open. Aleera screamed out in pain, trying to heal the wound, but a second swing caught her right in the chin, knocking her off her feet and to her back. Now, Anna had the upper hand.

Her head bleeding, Aleera rose to her feet, the wounds healing rapidly while she glared at the girl. "You shouldn't have done that," she hissed. Moving like a blur, she backhanded Anna, flinging her through the air until the girl slammed into the wall and crashed down in a heap. The vampire bride flashed her fangs, anticipating the chance to kill this child and drain her dry. "It is your blood, dear Anna, that shall keep me beautiful forever."

Her lip was split open, bleeding, but Anna licked the blood from her lips, feeling the strength that it gave her. The curse was giving her power, yes, but also hunger, a terrible hunger. Her body already demanded blood, blood not her own. She had felt it back in the manor, before she and the others had crossed through the mirror, but it was raging now, unlike anything she'd every felt before. She breathed in, hoping that it would not be her last, and opened her eyes to reveal the blazing red irises as she rose to her feet. Yes, she was still among the living, even if just barely, but she was hungry, so very hungry.

She snapped her head up to look into Aleera's eyes, to show the vampire bride her own inhuman stare. Aleera stopped in her tracks, seeing something that actually scared her now about this girl. It wasn't just the vampire power that was growing in her veins. Aleera could see it in Anna's eyes, the hunger, the thirst for blood. And more frighteningly, she was looking at Aleera for _food._

"No," the girl whispered, her tone filled with malice. She stepped toward the vampire, smiling as Aleera backed away in fear. "No, Aleera, you are mistaken. It is _I_ who will feast." She laughed, almost sweetly, but there was a coldness in that laugh. "You fear that I will steal Dracula away from you, become his favorite plaything while you are tossed aside like an old ragdoll."

"Silence!" Aleera hissed. She didn't like the image that was in her mind. Anna was not acting like that naive girl she had been only days before. This was a woman who did not hide her desires, nor her scorn. Just what had Dracula's blood done to her. "The Master will always love me, _I_ was his first!"

Anna smiled, stepping toward Aleera while opening her mouth to reveal the small extended fangs. Something was not right about them, they didn't look at all like the canines of a vampire, they looked like the smaller teeth of a _dunpeal_. "Love you?" she cooed, almost like she pitied Aleera. "Dracula is incapable of love, dear Aleera. He is empty, a hollow shell...but he still lusts for his Lisa. His beloved Lisa, the only woman he truly _loved_. And I am her rebirth."

"_Stop it!_" she screamed. Aleera let out a piercing wail of anger and sorrow, then brought her attention upon Anna. "You want him all for yourself, you want to make him think you're that Covrinus _bitch!_"

Anna's eyes flashed. Not with amusement, but anger. Even if she wasn't truly Elisabetha Corvinus reborn, she could feel the fury of her ancestor's soul at such an insult. "I'm not Elisabetha herself," the girl spat angrily, walking toward Aleera once more, but now letting her hunger show again. "But I am of her blood!" Taking another step, Anna revealed her fangs, knowing in her heart that she was falling too deep into embracing the curse. She fought to control it, she could control it. "Blood...the blood is the life."

No! She couldn't give into the hunger. Anna realized that she was losing control, not controlling the curse, but being controlled by it. But she was so hungry, thirsting for blood. Just this once, she would be freed from the curse once Dracula was dead, she would be a normal girl again...

Wait, did she want to be free? She had power, unimaginable power in her veins, power that Dracula had given her. What if she really was Elisabetha reborn? Could Dracula bring that life back to her, give her what she'd lost? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She would be immortal, living forever.

And then, she heard a voice. A soft voice, faint, but one that resounded in her soul. No, she could not accept Dracula's offer. He was a creature of Hell, and to join in his lot was to be eternally damned. But the hunger was so demanding...she needed to feed...and she was becoming aware of other needs her body demanded.

The bride looked at her foe. She could see the confusion, Anna not knowing what was happening to her. Now would be the perfect time to kill her, to tear Anna Corvinus apart. But there was something new in Anna's eyes, something besides hunger; lust. The girl was becoming aware of her body's more carnal demands, and it clearly was something she didn't know how to handle.

"You seek nature's pleasures," the vampire said, taking a step toward the girl. "You seek blood, and other things, don't you?"

Anna backed away, losing her confidence. Her mind was reeling, unable to understand the raging thoughts in her head. She couldn't fight in this state, Aleera would overpower her. "No," she whispered, trying to get control. It became clear to Anna that the vampire curse did more than give her the hunger for blood. It also gave her other hungers, needs that were part of nature, but not on this level. Images went through her head. Thoughts of things she'd managed to abstain from, but now, they were overpowering her, bringing her to her knees. "No, I'm stronger than this, I must not give in..."

"Surrender yourself to the hunger," Aleera whispered, now standing only mere feet away. "I will be your teacher, your master...your _lover_."

She couldn't control it, overwhelmed by the powerful rush of desires that she could not give into, but she was losing her will to resist. It would be so easy to just give in, to let it consume her. But something continued to push her away from surrender. A soft voice, one that was so familiar to her, yet she was unsure whose it was. It urged her to keep fighting, to push back against the curse. It sounded motherly, but it was not her mother's voice.

"I won't," she whispered, looking up to glare at Aleera. "I won't become one of you!"

The vampire smiled, baring her teeth while her eyes gleamed. "But sweet Anna," she said. "You already _are!_"

* * *

Scrambling to undo the restraints before another bolt could strike, Van Helsing knew he was hindering his own work, but he didn't have time to do otherwise. If he delayed now, it could very well be over.

"Just a few more seconds," he said, opening a panel piece to release Frankenstein's left leg. He then stared in shock; there was a chained lock on the giant's leg. Now he wished that he hadn't abandoned his last tojo. It would have been very useful right about now.

Just as Van Helsing reached into his coat, hoping to find anything that could help, he heard a screeching noise from below in the lab. It wasn't Velkan, and he'd heard that sound before, back in Castle Frankenstein. There was a shattering of glass, and the screech was heard again, but this time it was coming for him. Turning around, Van Helsing saw a blur just before he was struck, knocked off his feet and falling through the skylight into the laboratory below.

It was a terrifying eighty-foot drop, and he went smashing through wooden scaffolds and slammed down hard into the ground. He was aware of spark flying, flames billowing, and then an explosion as he hit the floor. But, he was alive, something that shouldn't have been so if he were any normal man. And that was his gift, what saved him. In four centuries, Dracula had never faced a foe who had succeeded in anything more serious than simply annoying him.

Tonight, that was all going to change.

* * *

Adrian raced through the foyer, reaching the bridge within mere minutes. The rain was pouring down hard, the winds violently blowing as if wanting to knock him into the abyss, but it was nothing compared to his resolve. He had to get up into Ba'al's tower and deliver the antidote into Velkan's hands, purge the _lupus_ curse from him. But there was the problem of knowing how much to give him, so that the antidote did not also destroy Velkan's _lycan_ powers.

About a fourth of the way across the bridge, Adrian came to a halt just before a bolt of lightning slammed down in front of him. The energy crackled over the giant black metal chains that supported the bridge, but he was not sure just how much this ancient structure could take.

Then, he heard something else. A crackling sound, like wires that were sparking. His instincts told him what it was, but, turning around, Adrian knew it was better to see his foe and be ready.

Racing from the main tower, holding a ten-foot cattle-prod was that horrible twisted man, Igor. He was laughing sadistically, and nearing the _dunpeal_, thrust out with his weapon. Adrian was quickly to move aside, the prod sparking against the iron chains. With another swing, Igor brought it crashing against the stone railing, now glaring at Adrian with a vicious grin. "Are you ready to meet God?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Or will you instead be greeted by the Devil when you die?"

Twisting around just as a third lunge came at him, Adrian drew his sword. "I do not fear death," he intoned, raising his blade to show he was ready. "But death also cannot claim me so easily, wretch."

Igor thrust forward with his prod. Adrian spun on his heel as he brought his blade about to deflect the attack, jamming the cattle-prod in the joints of the chains. Igor was now trying to pull it back out, frustratedly grunting. When it was obvious the device would not come free, he turned to Adrian and growled. Now, he drew out a metal club, and from the large patches of rust, it was obvious that Igor had planned ahead for such a fight. He saw the fear in Adrian's eyes, noted his hesitation. "What's the matter?" the twisted man stated, holding his weapon tightly. "Afraid of a little cold iron?"

A bolt of lightning crashed down again, surging along the chains while Adrian took a step away from his mortal foe. Just being around so much iron felt like it was sapping the strength from him. The fear was ingrained, burned into his every instinct. Now, Adrian was not so sure he would be able to make this fight an easy one.

Igor waved the club at him, amused when the _dunpeal_ took another step back. "Looks like you can die after all, _freak._"

Something exploded in him. Adrian wasn't sure what it was, but his fear of the iron metal was overwhelmed by the rage at Igor's contempt for him. He was a defiance of nature, true, but he was also something that showed a hope, that even from evil there could be something that fought in the name of good. And most of all, he was not a freak.

He dropped his sword, running at Igor and slamming his fist into the man's face before he could react. "I'd not speak of freaks if I were you!" he roared, coming about with a punch that cause the hunchback to double over. "You, who betrayed humanity, betrayed the world!"

Igor cried out as a third blow forced him to stumble back, but he swung his club, catching Adrian in the side with the blunt weapon. The _dunpeal_ screamed, his skin burning even though the iron had not touched his skin directly. He fell to the ground, holding his side.

And Igor smiled, raising his club to smash Adrian's head in.

* * *

After having watched his rescuer undo the last of his bonds, Frankenstein had watched as Dracula, in his terrible demon bat form, had flown about and sent Van Helsing crashing down into the laboratory below. There was no way the man could have survived, but Frankenstein knew better; Gabriel Van Helsing was no man.

Still, he had to help. Standing in his feet, Frankenstein stepped forward...and could not move anymore. His left leg was chained to the pod. He pulled angrily, trying to snap the chain, but then he felt a tingling on the back of his neck. Frankenstein knew that feeling, and mere moments later, a bolt of lightning slammed down to fling him back into the pod. Its energy crackled violently over his body, drawing from him the force of life. The green cascade of energy built up, then surged downward, crashing through the castle and flowing into the cocoons deep within the castle foyer. The pods exploded, releasing their hideous inhabitants, and they flew about, at last given life.

The electrical surges still pulsed in Frankenstein's body, and finally, he was flung out of the pod, chain breaking while he flew over the edge of the tower and fell downwards toward the black abyss. He couldn't die, not now, not like this. Flinging his hands out, Frankenstein caught hold of one of the cables, now sliding down it before he lost his grip and fell once more. He caught another cable, this time able to hold on.

Down below, on the bridge, he could see Adrian fighting with Igor. For a moment, it appeared as if the _dunpeal_ would defeat his mortal foe. But then, the twisted man struck Adrian, knocking him to the ground. Why wasn't he getting back up to strike his enemy?

_Iron_, his mind replied. _Dracula fortified this place with iron._

The cable slackened, and then, after a moment of free fall, he felt it go taut, and Frankenstein was now swinging like a pendulum toward the bridge.

* * *

With his club raised, Igor was grinning. Adrian was wounded, unable to retaliate, and he was going to be the one who killed this annoying aberration of nature. Dracula would be so pleased that Igor had done this.

And then, he heard something. Not sure what it was, Igor looked back toward the foyer. He could hear the chittering of the vampirlings, but there was something else, something that sounded like a person yelling. And it was getting closer...

He looked back, then gasped in horror just as a cable came across, catching him in the chest and throwing him from the bridge. Igor fell down into the abyss, screaming out as he descended into darkness, vanishing into the fog below.

Adrian blinked as he got up, then ran over to where he could see the cable that had caught onto a pilaster. He raced to the railing and looked down to see Frankenstein dangling from the cable, holding on for dear life, but slipping. There was four feet left for him to grip, then three.

"Help me!" he cried out. Frankenstein could see the pain in Adrian's eyes, pain no doubt from being struck by iron. His hands slipped, leaving only a foot of cable left before he fell. "Please! I want to live!"

He lost his grip, and Frankenstein plummeted downward. Adrian watched in horror, knowing that he had only one choice if he was to save that noble creature. "Mother," he whispered while hopping up onto the railing. "I'm sorry. But this once, I must use the gifts father gave me."

With a push, Adrian leapt from the bridge, diving down after Frankenstein. He used every ounce of magicks he could summon to accelerate, and he could see that he was rapidly gaining on the giant. He reached out his hand, Frankenstein stretching to grab it, and, as he took hold, the giant was shocked by what he saw next.

Adrian's eyes shifted, growing larger, reptilian as his clothing transformed into scales. His hands became powerful claws, wings growing from his back while a thick tail emerged from his rear end. Body enlarging, Adrian's head completed its transformation, and he wrapped his other arm under Frankenstein to better support him.

"Hold on," he said, voice deep, but powerful.

He spread his wings, catching the wind and pulling himself and Frankenstein back up toward the bridge. Adrian glanced toward the chamber window of Mephisto's Tower, and could feel something now, a mind which he couldn't touch before. _Anna_, he realized. She was losing control to the vampire curse, losing her battle with it. If he didn't help her now, she would be lost. But Velkan as well needed his aid.

Frankenstein could help her. "My friend," he said to the giant. "Can you do a favor for me?"

He nodded. "Anything."

"Good."

* * *

She struggled, conflict in her face, but Anna was determined not to lose this internal war. She could not give into the vampire curse. It would be an insult to not only herself, but to her entire family. Her people had fought and died to stop the vampires, she could not become one herself.

And clearly, Aleera knew that Anna was now winning that fight.

With a hiss, she grabbed the girl by the neck, lifting her up and staring into her eyes as she transformed into her demon form. "Be happy in the knowledge," she whispered, "that I shall weep over the death of your living existence." Her tongue flicked out, licking Anna along the cheek. "And together, we shall rejoice in the birth of your undeath!"

Her fangs were growing. Anna could feel the surge of pleasure that went through Aleera's mind. She gathered up her will, readying to strike, but she couldn't make her body react; she was choking.

Suddenly, the window exploded in. For a moment, Anna thought it might have been some of that explosive fluid Carl has brought along. But it wasn't something that had destroyed the window, it was some_one_.

Frankenstein.

The giant let out a yell as he flew through the shattered frame, crashing into Aleera and sending her flying across the chamber to crash head first into the wall. Anna fell to the ground then, on her knees, and breathing heavily, fighting to defy the vampire curse. She was alive still, and there was hope.

* * *

As he pulled himself from the wreckage, Van Helsing felt dizzy. He was seeing the realm of light again, faces more clear. He could distinguish forms now, and he could see that this realm was not of the earthly plane. Then, at last, he came to see that realm in clarity. There was only one place it could be, and as he saw it pull away, now falling to earth, he at last knew. He knew who he was, what he was, and his purpose, his duty, his domain.

The professor had been right.

"A test of faith," he muttered, now finding a great joke in those words. Fires burned around him, and a pair of Dwergi ran by, lit ablaze by the explosion his crash had caused. No doubt, they were going to soon fall dead, their bodies burning just as what semblance of souls they had would in Hell.

There was a rush of air, and Van Helsing turned to see Dracula standing behind him. It was like looking at the lords of Hell, the demon princes. He was smiling, an expression of total victory. "You are too late, old friend," he said, walking toward Van Helsing. "My children live!"

It was true. He could hear the chittering of the vampiric creatures, each one of them made from Dracula's flesh, very much in a way his children, his spawn. Thousands of them had emerged from their cocoons, ready to be unleashed upon the world...and they were hungry.

There was no need to stall any more. His back was blazing with pain, but it was not a physical pain that Van Helsing could feel. It was the pain of rebirth, who he was, what he was, restored at last. "Then the only way to kill them," he said, pointing to Dracula, "is to kill you."

He chuckled. "Correct," the count replied, walking still toward his foe. There was a look of inhuman confidence on his face, the confidence of four centuries, experience defeating all foes who stood against him. "And as you know, I cannot die."

Van Helsing laughed. He threw off his coat, feeling a rush of power, _divine_ power, that flowed through him. The count had indeed defeated all his foes in the past, all save one. The man who had killed him in the fields of war in Walachia more than four hundred years ago, the man who had ended the life of Vlad the Impaler.

And Gabriel Van Helsing was that man.

His shoulder blades were stabbing with pain, and as he yelled out, light began to gather around his back, shaping into the form of wings. Dracula, for a moment, looked confused, then gasped with horror and realization. As the light reached out in shape, taking final form, it faded, leaving Van Helsing with a pair of large black feathered wings. His eyes now blazed with blue light, and for a moment, his entire body was glowing with a white aura. This was who he was, his purpose to deliver the judgement of Heaven unto the earth, to destroy those who would plunge the world into darkness.

He was Gabriel, the Archangel of Judgement.


	17. Chapter 16

Pulling herself up on the wall, Anna groggily looked over to where Frankenstein stood. The giant had smashed through the window, not only tearing open the iron bars, but knocking Aleera away as well. He had saved her life. Van Helsing was right about this being, this man.

A terrible scream made itself know as Aleera shot through the air toward Anna. Just at the last moment, Frankenstein grabbed her by the legs, holding her back while Anna backed away into the window frame. The vampire bride would not give up, struggling to reach the girl and drain her completely.

Anna scowled, and kicked hard to catch Aleera right under the chin. The vampire was flung upwards, and Frankenstein took his chance to turn and throw Aleera back at the wall, where she hit head-first and crumpled into a heap.

He turned to Anna. "Go!" he cried. "Go and help your cousin!"

She hesitated, wanting to help this man, but his gaze was commanding. "Now!" he roared. The urgency in his voice was overwhelming. Anna slowly nodded to him, unable to think of how to express her gratitude.

"Thank you," she whispered. She thought she saw a smile on his face, and then, he turned, staggering toward Aleera to continue this fight. Anna now stepped out to the windowsill, then saw that there was nothing but a massive drop that had to be thousands of feet deep. It was impossible to even see the bottom of the abyss, there was no way she could just climb down.

The bridge nearby. If only she had a way to swing across to it. Wait, she did have the insanely powerful vampire strength. Granted, she needed to fight the curse, but if it could help her now, it would be worth it. Anna quickly judged the distance to the bridge, not sure if she would make it, but it was a risk she had to take.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back to see that Aleera was now latched to Frankenstein, swatting him endlessly, but he was obviously able to take it. Anna knew she couldn't delay, then leapt out, soaring through the air at an incredible velocity. Moments later, to her great surprise, she landed on the bridge. Stumbled and fell down to her rear, but still, she had made it.

"Anna!"

She stood and looked to see Carl and Velkan, the latter of whom was still in his _lycan_ form, running over to her. She found herself swept up by the werewolf, held tightly in a hug that she wished could not end. "Oh God!" she cried, holding Velkan tightly around the neck. "I was so scared!"

"Where's Adrian?" Carl said, looking around for any sign of the _dunpeal_. "He's got the antidote."

There was a roar from in the air, and the three looked up to see what appeared to be a humanoid dragon flying toward them. It wasn't Dracula, his form was a bat. It had to be Adrian. But, he had never before shown the power to change in such away. Why hadn't he used this form before?

There was no time to ponder things as another cry, a terrible scream, came from the window up in Mephisto's Tower. Aleera had escaped from Frankenstein, and was now making a beeline for Adrian. She slammed into him, sending the dragon-form _dunpeal_ crashing through a window in the foyer.

* * *

Dracula stared in horror while Gabriel spread out his massive black wings. He could feel the power in his foe, the power that was reaching out to destroy his own unholy energies. This was nothing like their confrontation four hundred years ago, this was much worse. Or maybe, it was better.

"We are part of the same great game!" he cried, backing away while Gabriel took a step toward him. "There is no need to be on opposite sides of the board!"

"We've been enemies since you showed your true colors," Gabriel replied. His hands ached to grip a weapon, any weapon, though he preferred to have his old sword back. "You _slaughtered_ those people, Vlad!"

Dracula's features distorted. "They were invading my land!" he roared. "Corrupting the soul of my reign!" His hands began to change, face warping. "I fought for your God, sacrificed everything, and this is how I am rewarded!"

He could not trust the word of this demon creature. Gabriel had been there himself when Vlad Dracula, the Impaler, had committed his horrible acts. He truly had earned his titles, as the Impaler, and as the son of the Devil. "You called to the powers of Hell," he stated, wings shifting while feathers lay in his wake. "You summoned the princes of darkness, and you brought this on yourself!"

"No!" Dracula spat. He began to transform in full, head changing while his hands shaped into horrible claws. His coat pulled away and became a massive set of bat wings, spanning at least twenty feet. A pair of blade-like protrusions grew from the back of his neck, his ears stretching while his legs cracked and realigned the bone structure. Now, Dracula stood more than ten feet tall, a terrible creature that looked like it was made in the fires of Hell. His fangs all presented themselves in his mouth, lengthened and gleaming with saliva, and his own wings spread out to complete the frightening image.

"You did this to me!" he continued. Gabriel was now backing away, and the vampire demon laughed. "You were the one who killed me, Gabriel, the one who _murdered_ me!" He snorted, curling his left hand tightly into a fist. "As I said, so long as I walk this earth, you can never return to the Gates of Heaven!"

Gabriel's features darkened. Dracula was indeed a creature of the outer darkness, spat out by Hell itself. But he was an Archangel, the divine warrior of Heaven. If anything could kill this beast, surly his angelic power could. "Then I guess," he hissed. "I'll just have to kill you again!"

He launched himself forward, slamming into the demon bat and pushing Dracula up against one of the massive conductors. In response, the vampire angrily swat him back, then kicked him with enough force to send Gabriel flying through the air and crashing into a wall. The archangel groaned as he pulled himself up from the ground. Even if he was a soldier of Heaven, he clearly still wore a mortal body. That was going to complicate things.

Dracula laughed, then took off, beating his wings to race upwards toward the skylight. In an instant, Gabriel rose after him, latching to the creature's back and pulling him back down toward the ground. The vampire gasped, and Gabriel used his legs to jam his wings. They both came back down, smashing through the catwalks and crashing to the ground while explosions roared all around them.

* * *

As he crashed to the ground, Adrian transformed back into his human form, groaning while his wings pulled in to form his coat, the last thing to revert. There was chittering all around him, and as he looked, up, Adrian gasped in horror. "The vampirlings," he whispered as he watched the creatures fly about through the air. The instant they noticed him, they would attack.

Aleera flew in, landing and transforming while the creatures cleared around her. "How do you like my children?" she hissed, walking toward Adrian while he stepped away. He reached to his side, but his sword was gone. But where had it fallen? He hadn't left it on the bridge, why was it gone?

He took another step back, but the chittering grew louder. The vampirlings had noticed his presence, no doubt now. But he had to get the cure to Velkan, fast. His mind had already made the calculations, figured out how much of the antidote that was need. But with Aleera in his way, and those terrible vampirlings all around him, there was not much Adrian could do.

"We could be lovers again," she intoned. Taking a step toward Adrian, Aleera smiled. "Sharing the endless passion of immortal love. I would be your bride!"

He frowned. "And what of Anna?" he asked. "I assume then that you will let her be Dracula's favorite?"

The vampire shrugged, as if it was no concern. "He wants his Elisabetha back so much, he can have her. After all, I have you." She stopped as she saw the look on his face; it was disgust. "Why do you hate me so?"

"You are not the woman I loved four centuries ago," he replied. Adrian breathed heavily, now confronting the one person other than his father he wished he had not seen again. "You're a vile beast, only wearing her image, but I know the rot that lays under it all."

Aleera screamed out, jumping forward and tackling Adrian. "You _freak!_" she roared, picking the _dunpeal_ up and throwing him across the foyer. He hit one of the large pilasters, his back roiling in protest, but the bride was quick to run over and grab him by the neck. She lifted him, her fangs extending out while her eyes filled with a lust for blood. "If I cannot have you, then at least I will have your _blood!_"

Something whistled through the air. Slamming his fist into Aleera's face, Adrian scrambled away just before a blade erupted from her chest, right through her heart. She looked down, staring in horror, then turned to see Anna Corvinus, standing in the doorway of the foyer. "You...you..."

She screamed, smoke rising as she stumbled back and began to bubble. She turned to face Adrian, but, instead of shock, she saw pride on his face. "Why?"

"If you're going to kill someone," he said. "Do it, don't just stand there and talk about it." At that, Adrian smiled. "It leaves them to come back and kill _you_."

She gurgled something unintelligible, then exploded, sending slime and gory about. The silver sword of Matthias Corvinus flew back and hit the ground, skidding to Anna's feet. She reached down, picked it up, then nodded to Adrian. "I told her that I would drive a blade through her heart."

He smiled, then ran over and led Anna out of the foyer. The vampirlings were chasing them, and they only smelled the human blood out there. But maybe his vampire blood was what had confused them, why he hadn't been attacked. It had given them the time they needed.

"Take this," he said, handing the antidote to Anna. "Inject only a fourth, it should be enough to destroy the _lupus_ venom and leave him a _lycan_." He then looked up toward Ba'al's tower, something dawning in his mind. His vampire blood, mingled with mortal... "I have to help Van Helsing," he said, now understanding.

Anna nodded, taking the syringe, then handing Adrian his sword. "It belongs to you," she said when he looked at her in surprise. "Go, we'll be alright!"

This girl truly was the descendant of his uncle. Pride was glowing in Adrian's eyes, and he took his weapon, sheathing it and launching himself from the bridge. As the faint blue trail of light streamed behind him, he turned, raising his hands as a large group of the vampirlings roiled out of the foyer. "Return to Hell," he hissed, energy crackling over his body. "_Cleansing Flames, consume the corruption!_"

The fires in the pilasters surged up, flying through the air and tearing into the swarm of vampirlings. As it came to their center, the blaze exploded, incinerating them in a flash. The charred remains fell, and Adrian nodded in satisfaction. He transformed into a bat, now flying away toward the highest tower of the castle; Ba'al's Tower.

* * *

Dracula was in human form again. He pushed his way out of the rumble, noticing a few surviving Dwergi who were running about, blazing with fire, but it didn't matter now. They had served their purpose.

A groan alerted him to the other presence there. Dracula spun to see Gabriel pull himself out of the flaming debris. His clothes had been torn and burned, but he now was clad in red, plates of gold and silver armor on his body. This was how Dracula remembered him, when they had last seen each other so long ago.

"You are being used!" he roared, pointing to his angelic adversary. "Just as I was, but I know who controls you!"

He pushed away the flaming wreckage, his wings shaking slightly to shed the burned feathers. "I am not a puppet," Gabriel stated, his voice filled with confidence and conviction. As he walked toward Dracula, he picked of a piece of piping. It wasn't a sword, but it would do for now. "I willingly serve Heaven, just as I have done so for countless eras! I was there at Sodom and Gomorrah, delivered the judgement on those who were corrupt beyond all redemption! I was there when the Romans took Masada, I was there when the Christians fought to take back Jerusalem!" He raised his weapon, pointing to Dracula now. "And I was there when you slaughtered those innocent people, burning them alive, just for the misfortunes that had fallen on them!"

"Oh, how naive!" Dracula replied. He waved his hand, as if pushing away the accusation. "They were beggers, cripples, and vagrants! Those people contributed _nothing_ to the welfare of my region!" He smiled now. "I simply removed a burden from the honest working man so that no one would go poor in my realm."

There was no good left in this creature, no doubt about it. All that had been left had become Adrian, a man with a noble soul who fought for true compassion and justice. Vlad Dracula, however, was a twisted mockery of those ideals. "You really are a sick bastard," the archangel spat in disgust.

"We all have our problems," he replied, unknowingly echoing the words of another such man who believed his acts to be right. Gabriel had seen to that man already, it disturbed him to face that kind of mind yet again. "Join me, and I will cut the strings, free you from your servitude."

Gabriel shook his head. "I'd rather you die and rot like you deserve."

He sprang forth, swinging the pipe just as Dracula transformed again. The iron pipe slammed into the demon's head, giving a satisfactory _crunch_ while it broke the bones, but Dracula retaliated quickly. His massive hand flung Gabriel away, and he jumped up to escape. The archangel couldn't let Dracula get away, not this time.

Gripping the pipe, Gabriel flung it hard, landing a hit right between Dracula's shoulder blades. The creature roared as the pipe impaled through his back, falling down and crashing into the scaffolding. Gabriel flew over, his wings spread, and he came down, grabbing Dracula from behind and pounding him ceaselessly. Dracula flung him off and pulled the pipe out of his back, then was assaulted once more by the angelic warrior. He was getting tired of this, but Gabriel would not stop.

Swinging around onto the creature's back again just as Dracula took flight, he grabbed the left wing and tore it open at the joint, causing the beast to scream in pain. Both of them came tumbling down, hitting the ground. Gabriel rolled away, coming to his feet, while Dracula looked at his injured wing, seeing that it was almost useless for the moment. He glared at the archangel, then leapt away, right into a surge of electricity from the dynamos that tore through him and flung him to the rafters.

He could win this fight. Dracula was wounded, blood pouring from a gash on his arm as he reverted to his human form. It was what Gabriel needed to know that he had a chance to win this fight. He picked up another pipe, holding tightly as he leapt up and landed on the rafters, walking toward Dracula. "Time to die again," he said, his eyes blazing with holy fire.

Dracula stared at his foe in shock. "We don't have to do this," he said, trying to figure out what to do. "It could be like old times again, Gabriel. Four hundred years ago, we were friends, partners!" He back away, seeing the anger in those burning eyes. "Brothers in arms!"

"You stopped being my friend the minute you began slaughtering innocent people," he replied. "Do you remember that poor child who did nothing but take a loaf of bread for his starving sister?"

"A thief!" Dracula roared. It was justified in his mind, why could this man of Judgement not see it was justice? "He _stole_ that bread, and like any thief, deserved death! And his sister was no better! They gave nothing to the society, only taking what they had not earned!"

"They were _children_ for God's sake!" the angel spat. There was no reasoning with madness, with utter evil. "You butchered them like animals, impaled them on those god-forsaken pikes, all for being children who had no family to survive, because _you_ ordered the death of their mother!"

Dracula gave a terrible roar, and transformed again. His large hand swung out and grabbed Gabriel by the neck, lifting him high. The archangel struggled, fought to get free, but that one hand was clamped shut around his throat. "They say," the creature hissed, drawing Gabriel close, "that should an angel lose his wings, he becomes mortal." It smiled. "Let's see how true that it."

His other hand came about and grabbed Gabriel's left wing, now tearing it off while the angel screamed out in pain. Golden fluids gushed from the stump of his wing, and Dracula flung his enemy down to the ground, looking at the black wing in his hand and licking his teeth. "Oh, so sad...you lost one already."

Gabriel breathed heavily. Pain blazed from the stump of his left wing, stabbing viciously into his nerves, but he didn't feel any less powerful than he had before. Plus, he knew the secrets of angels. "Just an old wives' tale," he said, getting to his knees. "An angel's wings are merely a manifestation of his being, _not_ the core of his power." His right wing flexed, the blood from his wound now clotting. But Gabriel stumbled. While his divine power had not wavered, his physical form was hurt, already having taken more punishment than any mortal man could have survived.

The creature threw his severed wing to the ground. Dracula roared, now spreading his own massive bat wings. The clock tower outside struck twelve, now chiming the toll of midnight. Time was running out for the world, this battle could not go on any longer, or all living things would become extinct.

Powerful claws clamped around his throat again, and now, Gabriel found he didn't have the strength to resist. Turning about, Dracula swung the angel into one of the generators, letting go and beginning to physically pummel him. His body couldn't take any more abuse like this. Dracula was vicious, grabbing Gabriel and throwing him across the room.

As he crashed into the conductors, the machines exploded all around him, engulfing Gabriel in flames. He couldn't move anymore, his body was drained of strength. Even an angel has his limits, he realized, and it looked like Dracula was going to be the one who finished this war after all. The creature stepped over, grabbed the angel by his neck again, and lifted him to meet Gabriel's eyes.

"It is time," he hissed, "for angels to die."

There was a shattering of glass, and a large white bat flew in, transforming into the tall blonde form of Adrian Tepes. Dracula spun around to face his son, his face filled with anger. The _dunpeal_ drew his sword, pointing it toward his father. "This ends now, Dracula!"

He snorted. "You think you can kill me with that piece of trash!" Dracula bellowed. Flinging Gabriel aside, he stepped toward his son, his eyes lighting up with the desire to kill. "You have driven Matthias' blade into my heart before, Alucard, and I still live! Even God cannot kill me, you know that!" There was a smile on the monster's face. "Did you yourself not drive me into the sun, only for it to do little more than burn my skin! Did you yourself not drive that golden stake through my heart, only for me to pull it out! I am invincible, Alucard, immortal!"

The blade glimmered in the light. Silver and gold, over four centuries since it had been forged, yet the blade looked as if it had come out of the blacksmith's shop only yesterday. "No," Adrian replied. He brought the blade to his arm, pushed back his sleeve, and cut open the flesh, spilling his blood onto the sword. "There is a way to kill you."

Dracula roared, opening his wings wide to unleashed a volley of fireballs that tore through the air toward Adrian. The _dunpeal_ dove aside, the balls of destruction exploding against the machinery behind him, his sword was gone from his hand. Dracula stomped over and grabbed his son, lifting him up. "_Nothing,_" he said, fangs gleaming and thirsting for blood, "can ever kill-"

He felt something drive itself into him, through his back. And then, it burst through his chest, gleaming red with blood; _Adrian's_ blood. Dracula dropped his son, turning to see Gabriel stand there behind him. Adrian hadn't dropped his sword, he had thrown it to the archangel. But why?

"Blessed by God," the angel repeated from the book. "Born to a mother's love...by the blood of the son shall the dead's rule be undone."

He looked back to his son, his child, who, as immortal as he, had chased him over the course of four hundred years, seeking to destroy him. And this whole time, it had been he who was the key to killing the lord of vampires. "Lisa," Dracula whispered. His body was rotting, time at last catching up with his horrible existence. "He is your son..."

And Dracula, the lord of the night, King of the vampires, fell dead. His body turned to ash, bones crumbling into nothing, and in the end, there was nothing left of him. The screams of his spawn could be heard as they, in his death, exploded, the unholy powers giving them life torn asunder.

And then, Adrian screamed out. He dropped to his knees, grabbing his chest. Something was horribly wrong. Gabriel ran over and caught the man before he fell, looking into his face and seeing the pain there. This didn't make sense, why was Adrian in pain?

But the son of Dracula knew what it was. He never had thought of what would happen should he actually kill his father, and so he had never understood the price for destroying Vlad. "If he dies," Adrian whispered, "so do all things he has sired. That includes me."

"No!" Gabriel yelled. "No, you're not like his creations, not like his spawn! You're a pure soul, blessed by the Heavens!"

He smiled. He was dying as the law of nature at last took hold of him, but Adrian Tepes was smiling. "Gabriel," he said. "For the past four centuries, I have lived. Not once did I think of myself, but of saving those around me. I have fought my father for so long that I never once stop to think of what would happen to me once he was dead.." He paused, his breath becoming fainter. Gabriel could hear the weakening heartbeat. "But I don't regret it at all. I at last can rest in peace, and I have you to thank for it."

There was a scurry of footsteps. Gabriel turned to see the arrival of his missing companions, and they as well stared in horror at the sight before them. Dracula was dead, Adrian dying, and Gabriel's eyes told them that there was nothing he could do.

But the _dunpeal_ smiled, letting them know that he felt no sadness. "I thank you all," he managed to say. As Anna walked over and knelt down, he gently caressed her face, wiping the tears from her eyes. "And I thank you, Anna, for always being the light that reminded me why I fight. You are my mother's image, in every way possible."

Taking hold of his hand, Anna sobbed. She was losing someone she'd held so dear to her heart, someone who had told her all about her brave ancestors, and of the beautiful woman she carried the face of. Adrian had told her the heartbreaking stories about Elisabetha, how she sought only to help those in need, of how much she had loved her son, despite the horrible things people said about him.

Adrian looked to Velkan. In his hands was the syringe, a noticable amount of the antidote gone. He shouldn't have doubt that the _lycan_ would be cured. "Take care of her," he intoned. "That's all I ask for."

As Velkan nodded, Adrian felt cold. He looked once more to Gabriel, and smiled before he closed his eyes for the last time. His body went limp, all life leaving, and Adrian Tepes, the last Prince of Walachia, died. Gabriel lowered his head in prayer, whispering in a tongue far older than any in human history. "I have judged you," he said softly, looking out to see that the sky was clearing, and the stars shined brightly in the heavens. "And you are innocent, Adrian Tepes, son of Elisabetha Corvinus. May God rest your soul in Heaven."


	18. Epilogue

They approached the Black Sea, toward where Elisabetha Corvinus had been buried four hundred years ago when she died. Carl and Velkan had driven the horses the whole way, with Van Helsing sitting in the carriage with Anna. She didn't want to leave Adrian's side, even in his death. He could see how much the _dunpeal_ had meant to her. He once was the living legacy of her ancestors, and, as Van Helsing had no problem admitting, a noble soul.

His wing had healed itself, just as he'd known it would. It had taken a little explaining of what he knew, but once Van Helsing had told Carl everything, the man had been able to accept it. And so, these people knew his secret, that he was an Archangel bound to earth. For what true purpose, he did not know, but it hadn't been just Dracula.

But right now, his concern was to bring Adrian's body to its final rest. He could smell the sea before they saw it. The moon was abscent, but the stars shined brightly in the heavens, guiding their way. With Dracula's death, the one-way door had opened up, allowing them to depart the horrible black castle just before it had crumbled into the ground. Gabriel had thought it only proper if they laid Adrian to rest with his mother, the person who had give him the heart to fight his father.

When they arrived, the sky was barely starting to brighten. It was still a few hours until sunrise, which gave them time to build a pyre for Adrian. Anna had insisted doing it herself, but the three men denied her the sole burden. They all felt it was their duty to help lay the prince to rest. And so, with the wood they had brought, they constructed a pyre three feet tall. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when they had finished. Velkan carefully set the body on the wood mount, then turned to Carl and nodded.

The man read from the bible, saying a prayer for Adrian. As his friend preformed the ceremony, Van Helsing could not help but feel sad. He hadn't known Adrian that long, but the man had been a true hero, sacrificing everything of his own to protect those in need. _Just like his mother,_ he reflected. Such horrible burdens they all now had to bear. And yet, Van Helsing wondered if they were not alone. Did Jinette, who had sent him on so many assignments, know of the price that had to be paid for these victories? Certainly, Professor Van Helsing knew that weight, and he had to have known who his prodigal son really was.

No, they were not alone in their pain. But they were the ones who had been there, fighting on the front lines, and paid the price in full.

Carl finished reading. There were tears running Anna's cheeks. She wanted to refuse this had happened, wanted to believe that any moment now, Adrian would return to life, as if nothing had happened. But she knew that she would only be fooling herself. Of all of them, Adrian had paid the greatest price in the war with Dracula; his life. And he was never coming back.

And so, as the last of his family, Anna was the one who consigned him to eternity. She stepped forward, reaching the torch into the pyre and igniting it. The flames spread, and even now began to warm her face. And then, she whispered good-bye.

* * *

Frankenstein watched the fire from his raft as he drifted out to sea. He pulled down his hood and bowed his head in prayer, paying his last respects to Adrian Tepes. He knew the suffering that the _dunpeal_ had endured in life, outcast only because of the way he was born.

His own life had not been long, certainly nowhere even near the centuries that Adrian had lived. But he did know loss. His time with Father had been heartbreakingly short, and in the end, Father had died to protect him from the very same darkness that had claimed Adrian's life. But Adrian's sacrifice had given them all life, just like Father's gift to him.

And Frankenstein promised that he would not let Father's gift be wasted.

* * *

His shoulders tingled, and Van Helsing had the strangest feeling that they were being watched. He turned around, but saw no one out there, save Frankenstein out in the distance on the Black Sea. There was no one else beside Carl, Anna, and Velkan.

And yet, there was someone else here. He could feel the presence, someone who felt pure, a noble soul. He turned to the pyre, and saw the smoke wafting out, almost like it was moving toward them. It seemed to reach tendrils out, lifting Anna's chin, and that's when he knew what it was.

"Adrian," he whispered. The smoke looked to shift toward him, and there was a face in the smoke. It smiled, now moving toward the reddening dawn sky.

They stood there, stunned, then turned toward the sky. What they saw was incredible. The clouds opened up, a bright source of light shining down as the image of Adrian Tepes appeared, like a specter in the sky. Behind him was a young woman, one who looked a lot like Anna, and next to her was an older man who bore royal features. More faces appeared, and Van Helsing realized that this was Adrien's family, those who had been waiting four centuries to pass into Heaven. The young woman was Elisabetha, his mother, and the man had to be Matthias.

And Anna now saw her past, all coming togther. There, smiling down, was her father, beaming with pride. Her mother was there as well, the smile one that said how proud she was of her daughter. They were at last at peace.

"Thank you," the image of Adrian seemed to say. And he was happy. At last, he was with his family, with the people he had lost over the hundreds of years he'd been forced to live, immortal as his father. And Van Helsing could see his peace, _feel_ how thankful Adrian truly was. And he saw that he was being given his chance to go back, that he, the Archangel Gabriel, could go home.

He was ever so tempted. It was where he came from, where he belonged, at the left hand of God. He turned to see his companions, his friends. The looks in their eyes all said that they would not blame him, for he had earned this.

Yet, in his heart, Gabriel knew that he had to refuse. His role may be in Heaven, but where he belonged was _here_, on Earth. And looking toward the gates of Paradise, he shook his head, letting Adrian know that he had made his decision. "I belong here," he whispered. "But you earned this."

The man's spirit nodded, well understanding his angelic ally. He turned toward his mother, to his uncle, and then, they all ascended into the light, at last entering the gates of Heaven and finding peace. And as the clouds closed on the light, Van Helsing turned to his still living companions. They wouldn't have blamed him for going, but in his heart, Gabriel would have known it was not his purpose. He was needed here, on Earth, to protect mankind form the Darkness which they could not fight.

And as the pyre burned to embers, he looked once more to the sky. One day, he would return to Paradise, but this was not that day. He would live here on Earth, the angelic guardian of humanity, and protect it from all those who would plunge the world into darkness. That was his purpose, his job.

"Bless me, Father," he whispered to the rising sun. He smiled faintly, and now accepted his duty. But, even an angel had a sense of humor. "For I will surly sin."

* * *

Afterword

Well, it's been a long road writing this e-book. What started as a challenge from some fellow GAFFers turn into something I've made into an eventual trilogy. Shadow of the Vampire has been a great trip for me, and I hope you enjoy it as much as you probably enjoyed the actual Van Helsing movie, if not a bit more. I'd like to thank Steve Sommers for giving us what I like to call the "Universal Classics Trilogy", that being The Mummy, Mummy Returns, and Van Helsing. If not for that series of movies, this story probably would have ended up much different than it did, not that it's a bad thing. I'd also like to send great kudos to Kevin Ryan who wrote the novelization of the movie, since that was my friend during a long two weeks when I was on vacation and did not have access to the movie for reference. Mostly the point was to fix a lot of things that many watchers thought went wrong with the movie, like the point of teasing us with Van's real history, and then dropping it the minute we're about to find out. I also made it a point to be as historically accurate as possible with Dracula's origins, as well as geographically accurate. Much research was done for this book, and most likely will be done just as much for the second book, **Curse of the Mummy. **BTW, if anyone is wondering, yes, as a paper back, this thing would be as big as the actual novelization. ;;; So, here's too the future, and the next book, which I'm still working on. We say good-bye to Walachia, and hello to Egypt.


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